At the End of the Earth
by Shakespeare's Lemonade
Summary: Michael has kept his distance from Miami since he returned to the CIA, but a spur of the moment visit to see his mom starts a chain reaction of heartbreak, death, and a slim chance at redemption. He will have to face his biggest adversary in an attempt to save what is left of his family. Post season 6. Warnings: major character death, somewhat graphic violence.
1. You Can Never Go Home

At the End of the Earth

Shakespeare's Lemonade

Summary: Michael has kept his distance from Miami since he returned to the CIA, but a spur of the moment visit to see his mom starts a chain reaction of heartbreak, death, and a slim chance at redemption. He will face his biggest adversary in an attempt to save what is left of his family.

Pairings: Michael/Fiona (eventually), Jesse/Pearce, Sam/Elsa

Warnings: Major character death later in the story. If that's something you don't want to read, then I'm afraid this story will not be for you. There will also be a considerable amount of violence and possible abuse/torture situations.

**Chapter One "You Can Never Go Home"**

A hectic mission in a top secret location was just what Michael needed to get his mind off the events of the last few months. But the mission was over now. He had come home to his new apartment in D.C. The place that had felt empty from the moment he stepped into it three months ago. There were no pictures on the white walls or knickknacks on the dark wood furniture. He hadn't had time to decorate, not that he had anything left after burning it all in the loft.

The hardwood floor creaked slightly under Michael's feet as he walked through the front door and set his keys on the dusty table in the entryway. The faint light of the growing dusk filtered through the high windows all along the opposite side of the building. There was one message on the phone.

Michael had been out of the country for six weeks, and he had one message. For most people, that would be some sort of miracle. He wasn't expecting any calls. As he listened to the automated voice announcing that the call came over three weeks ago, Michael hoped it wasn't anyone important. But it was. At least his mom was used to her calls going unanswered for months at a time. It didn't make him feel any better, but there was nothing he could do about it except call her back. Some small part of him was elated that she wanted to talk to him at all.

Dialing the familiar number, Michael wondered what he would say to her. She had just called to see how he was doing. There wasn't much to tell on that front, but he called back anyway. Before he unpacked or even took off his shoes, Michael called his mother. Six years ago, he wouldn't have bothered.

The phone rang a couple of times before Madeline's excited voice came over the line. "Michael! I wasn't expecting to hear from you," she said.

"Yeah, I was out of the country when you called," Michael replied. "I just got home."

"And how is everything? Oh, I know you can't tell me about your mission or anything, but how are you?"

"I'm good, Mom. Not much to report."

"Have you heard from Sam or..."

"No, just you. I wasn't expecting..."

"I know. It's strange without you here, Michael. I was getting used to it."

"So was I, Mom. I didn't want to leave, but—"

"You had no other choice. I know, honey. Sometimes I think I might have preferred Argentina. At least I'd get to see you then."

Michael looked at the clock on the wall in the entryway. It wasn't too late. "Tell you what, why don't I come down for the weekend?"

"Really? They won't need you for some mission or something?"

"I just got home from two months in a country I can't mention. I have a little time off."

"Well, only if it's not too much of a bother. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble."

"I am allowed to visit my family, Mom. The deal I made—it's like nothing ever happened."

Madeline laughed humorlessly. "Nothing," she said.

"You know what I mean." Michael tried to hide the tiredness trying to creep into his voice.

"Yes. When will you be here?"

"I'll check if there are any flights tonight. I'll call you from the airport."

"Michael—thank you. You really don't have to do this."

"I know, Mom. I want to."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

The last thing Michael wanted was another plane ride. He had been going non-stop for the last six weeks—much longer than that if he were honest with himself—and all he wanted now was some peace. For some reason, spending the weekend with his mom sounded like the best idea in the world. Michael considered the possibility that he might be losing his mind. There was a time not long ago that he would have given anything to leave Miami. He had joined the Army to get away, and he had planned on staying away. But somehow the last six years had changed everything. Michael had gotten a glimpse of what his life could have been with friends, love, but it was all gone now, and there was nothing he could do about it. At least his mom still wanted to see him.

Michael tried to sleep on the plane because even three hours of nothing to do left too much time to think. When that failed, he memorized the inf-light magazine and stared up the aisle at anything that moved. Somehow that wasn't enough. His mind kept going back to the last time he was in Miami, the moment when his whole world came crashing down around him. He had gotten everything he ever wanted, and lost the only thing he couldn't live without. His mom had been right when she said that Michael wanted everything both ways, and it drove him crazy not to have it. The only way he dealt with it was by throwing himself into work and not allowing any idle time to think.

Perhaps visiting his mom wasn't such a good idea. The rush of memories that came with the idea of being in Miami again was almost too much to handle. He didn't know how he was going to deal with actually _being_ there.

Michael didn't expect to see anyone while he was there. It was only a weekend at his mom's house. The others probably wouldn't be around as much as they used to be. Michael couldn't bring himself to think of them by their names. The memory of the hurt look in all of their eyes made him ashamed to consider himself their friend. Maybe he never had been, maybe he was as selfish as they thought he was, and maybe he was a coward for hiding behind the "greater good."

All of Michael's efforts to silence his troubled thoughts had failed so far. Somehow the flight back to the U.S. earlier had been easier. Probably because he was still processing all the details of his mission and he wasn't thinking about visiting his mom. He had been thinking about going home and sleeping. Missions didn't used to wear him out like that. He was human; he got tired like everyone else, but he loved his work. He was happy, or thought he was. Now, he just wanted to get away from that job that had stolen everything from him, and he couldn't. He was stuck.

Michael leaned back in the airplane seat and sighed softly. He needed to chase these thoughts away. He couldn't focus on how much he hated his current circumstances because they weren't going to change. He just had to make the best of it as he had been doing that the last three months. The CIA had taken him back because he was a damn good operative. He knew it. It was the only thing he was good at. He wasn't a good friend, a good son, a good brother, or even a good boyfriend. He never had been.

So, maybe it was for the best. Maybe he was meant to be alone, and relationships really were too much of a liability. There had been some brief moments of delusion where he thought love made him stronger, that the relationships he had built over those six years were keeping him alive. Maybe they were. Maybe he wasn't alive anymore, just a shell of a human, a killing machine like Larry or Simon. At least they admitted it. Michael never would. He would fight it until the day he died, because he was a good person, and he wouldn't believe anything else no matter what evidence glared him in the face.

Finally, the plane landed in Miami, and Michael was able to find other distractions: moving through the airport, getting a cab, and gazing at all the familiar sights as the sun went down over the place he tried not to call home.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Twilight was just settling in when Michael arrived. When he told her he was coming, Madeline had rushed out to get groceries so she could make him dinner. She knew her cooking wasn't that good, but she wanted to do something for him that he wouldn't do for himself. She did not consider yogurt a proper meal.

The warm smell of food mingled with the ubiquitous cloud of cigarette smoke. Through the open windows, Madeline could hear children playing and laughing down the street. One might think this was a normal home for a normal family. That nothing had ever blown up here, and no one had ever bled. It was an impressive facade.

When Michael came through the front door without knocking just as he always did, Madeline noticed a strange look on his face. There was something in his eyes she didn't think she'd ever seen before, a sort of sad contentment, as if he missed home. That couldn't be it, though. Michael had always made it very clear how much he wanted to get away from his past. Madeline put it out of her mind and went to greet her son.

"I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," she said as she pulled him into a gentle hug.

"Like I said, I have some time off." Michael made it seem like it was nothing, like he visited all the time, but the last six years had been an exception to the rule that Michael Westen did his best to avoid Miami.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," Madeline said with a smile. No need to bring up her questions just yet. "I made dinner. I know it's late, but I thought you might be hungry."

"Sure." Michael smiled back. "Sounds great."

"Just put your things in the guest room, and I'll get everything ready."

As Michael disappeared down the hallway, it was not lost on Madeline that even in the six years he spent here, he had never stayed at this house. Sam had, Jesse had, but never Michael. Madeline understood that. He had escaped almost thirty years ago. Why would he ever want to come back to the place he had suffered so much?

Madeline had no answer for that, and she didn't think Michael would have if she asked him.


	2. No Good Deed

**Thanks for all the great reviews. Also, I should credit my beta reader, Riter's Fury, who created the monster of my Burn Notice fascination.**

**Chapter Two "No Good Deed"**

Dani Pearce smiled as she settled into her desk that morning. Those months in Mumbai had been challenging for her, but in the end, it had been worth it. She was back home where she belonged. Her career was back on track. Things were looking up, and apparently, her day could only get better because soon after arriving to work that morning, she received an unexpected visitor.

Dani often felt that her time spent getting to know Jesse Porter had been too short. In their brief acquaintance, she had known him to be a loyal friend and good support when she needed it. His help in catching Jay's killer had meant the world to Dani, and after receiving that closure, she felt her eyes once again open to the world and the happiness that could be.

Perhaps she was being a silly romantic, but Dani couldn't help noticing that Jesse _was_ the first one to visit her upon her return to Miami. It didn't have to mean anything, but she would be fine if it did.

"Hey, I heard you were back in town," Jesse said with that trademark smile in his eyes and upbeat tone in his voice. "How'd that happen?"

Dani smiled back. "Didn't Michael tell you? He was able to get me transferred back."

"Michael?" Jesse looked confused as he sat in one of the empty chairs across from Dani. "I haven't heard from him in months."

Dani frowned. "Then how did you know I was here?"

"I _am_ still a member of the intelligence community, albeit on the fringes."

Dani shook her head. "The fringes of the fringes. But what's this about not talking to Michael? I talked to him yesterday."

"It's... complicated." The lightness in Jesse's eyes was gone.

Dani crossed her arms on her desk. "Jesse, what's going on?"

He averted his eyes for a moment and sighed. "After Mike went back to the CIA things got... strained. Especially with Fi, but we all kind of had issues with that."

"I'm missing something." Dani unfolded her arms. "From what I understand, he made a deal to keep you all from facing prosecution for helping him after he killed Tom Card."

"That's the simple version, but nothing's ever simple with Michael Westen."

"So... you wanted to go to prison?"

"No. Of course not. It's—complicated."

"You said that."

"Look, we were on the run for a long time. We accepted the fact that we couldn't go home. Then Mike makes this deal, and it's supposed to be like nothing happened. But it's not. It's different."

Dani leaned back in her chair. "Oh. I see."

"Yeah, well, that's not why I came here. I just wanted to welcome you back and invite you to come have drinks with us tonight. It's Sam's turn to buy." The lightness was back, though somewhat disingenuous.

Dani smiled softly. "I wouldn't miss it."

Jesse smiled back, more real this time. "I gotta run." He got up from the chair and headed for the door. "See you tonight."

Dani watched Jesse go and couldn't help wondering what had gone so wrong that Michael wasn't in communication with his friends. When she had worked with him before, it seemed like the only people Michael really trusted were Sam, Fiona, and Jesse. It was so wrong for the four of them not to be working together. Dani understood though, with Michael's deal with the CIA, he had to sacrifice a lot. She just didn't think it would be so bad.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

After an evening of awkward small talk and mediocre food, Michael and Madeline had both gone to bed wondering what the hell they were supposed to do together. In the morning, Madeline made coffee and light breakfast and tried to think of something for them to do. They never really did anything together besides those two therapy sessions and the times Madeline helped with Michael's missions. Neither of those things would do for this weekend. They were supposed to have fun, but Madeline couldn't remember the last time they did that. Not alone anyway.

Things always seemed easier when there were other people around. Sam and Fi or Jesse or Nate or even a client. But they didn't have that now. It was just the two of them, and they might soon discover how little they had in common.

As Michael came out into the dining room, already showered and dressed, Madeline decided to try to get things moving.

"What would you like to do today?" she asked brightly as she brought two cups of coffee to the table.

"Whatever you want, Mom," Michael replied in a similar tone. That was not helpful.

Madeline sucked in a quiet breath as she sat down across from Michael. "What sounds fun? We could go to the beach or the mall."

Michael almost imperceptibly cringed at that suggestion. "Sure," he said and bit into a piece of toast.

"Michael, what do you enjoy doing? I mean, besides going to the shooting range or blowing things up or saving helpless people from certain death."

"I can do that at home."

Madeline noticed the way he called Langley home now. "You still didn't answer the question."

"I don't know, Mom. Maybe someplace without so many people."

"Oh, I know! A museum."

Michael smiled, probably more at her enthusiasm than the idea. "Okay. And I'll take you out to lunch after for your birthday, since I missed it."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"That's not why I offered."

"Well, thank you Michael. That would be lovely."

Madeline knew the smiles were all lies, but she also knew there was a part of both of them that just wanted to lie for a while. They could pretend they were happy for the little time they had together because they never knew when they would have this chance again, if ever. Madeline didn't like to think that way, but coming back would only get harder for Michael as the memories turned stale and the sense of what he had lost really sunk in. Madeline could tell he hadn't completely processed it yet. She hadn't either.

They ate their breakfast in contented silence much like they had spent their few idle evenings together during those six years. It hadn't been enough, but this was all they could do to get it back, and they would never get it back.

The silence was broken when the side door opened, and Jesse came into the kitchen. He seemed preoccupied and about to say something when he saw Michael. There was a moment where no one said anything, and then Jesse broke out his fake smile that was almost as good as Michael's.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" he kept his tone light, but there was an unspoken tension behind his words.

Michael smiled back, keeping up the charade. "Just visiting for the weekend," he said. "We were going to a museum this morning."

Jesse looked confused. "Okay. Hey, I've been using your car. I hope you don't mind."

Michael shook his head. "I don't need it. It's yours if you want it."

"Wow, uh, thanks. On a side note, what's the deal with transferring Dani back to Miami?"

Michael looked like he wasn't going to say anything for a moment. "She told me before she left not to let it all be for nothing. It was one of the things I _could_ fix."

Jesse nodded slowly. "It was a good thing you did."

"For once."

"No. No, you do that a lot. It just doesn't always seem like it." Jesse nodded as if to himself. "Have fun at the museum." He left without saying why he was there, but Michael and Madeline could both hear voices coming from the garage, and realized that they were working on a job out there. Things were going back to normal, but nothing would ever be the same.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Fiona dusted off her hands as she finished boarding up the windows in the garage. She looked around at the changes they had made. It was a good morning's work. Everything was going as planned. When Jesse came back from the house, Sam looked over from where he was installing a surveillance camera.

"You let Maddie know we'll be working out here?" he asked.

"Uh, no, I think they're going out," Jesse replied.

"They?" Fiona asked as she came to stand in the center of the garage.

"Mike's here."

Silence seemed to crash into them all. Fiona felt her heart beating faster. Her palms began to sweat, and she feared she might be on the verge of hyperventilating. The last time she saw him, she had said goodbye. It was supposed to be the end. He wasn't supposed to come back.

Fiona swallowed hard and rubbed her palms on her jeans. "What do you mean?" she said.

Jesse looked her in the eye. "Michael is here. Inside."

"Why?" Fiona could hear the emotion in her own voice that she couldn't hide.

Jesse shrugged. "Visiting, I guess."

"What right does he have to—"

"Fi," Sam interrupted. He gave her a look as if to communicate something between just the two of them.

Fiona glared back. "You can't say this makes sense to you, Sam."

"He's visiting his mom, Fi. She's all he has. Leave the poor guy alone."

"I plan to." Fiona busied herself putting equipment away and missed the worried glance Sam and Jesse shared. She wouldn't have cared much if she had seen it. She was too distracted as the memories of everything that had gone wrong came flooding back. It wasn't right for Michael to force her to relive all that. Hadn't he done enough damage?

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

There was a side of Michael that said "to hell with consequences," and another side that had become so intimately acquainted with consequences over his lifetime that he could not realistically listen to the first side. He wanted to go out there. To see them all. After Jesse's words, Michael began to think that maybe the others would come to understand what he did. At the same time, he knew that Jesse was different than Sam and Fiona. He had once seriously considered killing Michael, and he hadn't said a word about Michael killing Tom Card. Sam had made it clear how opposed he was to the whole thing, while Fiona had said it was the right thing to do, but they both thought Michael going back to the CIA was a bad decision.

Time may have softened their attitudes, but Michael didn't count on it. After the shock of Fiona's reaction, Michael was not going to assume anything. But he had to see them. He couldn't be two doors away, and not take advantage of the opportunity. Maybe it would do more harm than good, but he had to take that chance. He owed it to them to explain as long as they would listen.

So, while Madeline got ready to leave for the Miami Art Museum, Michael headed out the side door toward the garage. As he came in, it looked like they had just finished preparing it to hold a prisoner or something. Fiona was putting away a power drill, and Sam was cleaning up. Jesse stood a little away from the door looking conflicted. For a long moment, no one said anything. No one could think of anything to say. Then Sam smiled, and Michael realized that in all the years he had known him, Sam had never looked so artificial, so fake.

"It's been a long time, Mikey," he said. His voice seemed flat.

Michael smiled back; he was better at it. "I've been out of the country," he said, thinking it best to stick to simple facts. "But I had some time off, so I thought I'd come down for the weekend."

"Everything like it was in the good old days, huh?"

Michael let his smile slip. There were no good old days, but what could he say? "It's fine," he said. He couldn't complain about the life he had chosen, especially not to those he had left behind.

Fiona still hadn't looked up from the drill case that lay open on the floor. She was crouched in front of it with her hands on the sides, as if frozen there.

"Well, we're kinda in the middle of something," Sam said, drawing Michael's attention away from Fiona. "We have to get going. Come on Fi."

Michael realized what Sam was doing. He was rescuing Fiona from a situation she didn't want to be in. The two of them left without another word, and Michael knew he shouldn't have come. Maybe his mom and Jesse could forgive him for leaving, but it didn't look like Sam or Fiona ever would. It was only fair for Michael to let them forget about him. He had been selfish to drop into their lives just to leave again, to cause them needless pain. It would have been better if he had stayed away, and he should have known that before he came.


	3. Grasping at the Wind

**It's Friday somewhere, and I feel like updating early. :D Thanks for all the reviews. You guys rock!**

**Chapter Three "Grasping at the Wind"**

Fiona couldn't think. She knew she was walking down the path toward the street. She knew her keys were in her hand, and she was going to get into her car and drive, but she didn't know where, and she didn't know why.

She knew Sam was right beside her, and somehow that was comforting and irritating at the same time. She knew she would have gone mad without Sam these last three months, and she knew that at this precise moment she needed him more than ever.

When had her life become so wrapped up in someone she used to hate? How did she lose so much that a washed up ex-SEAL had become her best friend? She hated it, but she couldn't live without Sam now. She couldn't leave Miami and all the bitter memories because this was where Sam was, and this was where they had worked together for six years, saved each others' lives, all because of Michael. He had left them, but he hadn't left them alone. Fiona wasn't sure which was worse. If she had been alone, she could have left or jumped off a bridge or gone back to her old life of selling weapons to criminals.

After Michael everything changed. Fiona couldn't be satisfied with anything but this life, even if it meant going on without him. Even if it meant Sam was the only person she could count on.

Fiona handed over her keys without thinking, and Sam took them. She was in no state to drive, and she knew he would complain if she tried. As they headed down the street away from the source of Fiona's emotional stupor, she began to gain some clarity. But that only allowed her to focus on the memories she was trying to wipe out. She heard his voice in her head, smelled his unique, Michael scent. It brought back thoughts of the way he would hold her face in his hands when he was scared or how he wrapped his arms around her when he kissed her. She could hear all the anger and the fear in her head as so many of his unforgettable words filtered through her mind. _There is no line when it comes to you. I can't lose you. I did what I had to do._

Fiona felt hot tears forming in her eyes, and the road outside her window blurred. She had thought she was past this right up to the moment Jesse told them Michael was back. Those words brought her back to a place she never wanted to be again. A place she had left three months ago with Sam's help. It was supposed to be over.

"Hey, Fi?" Sam's voice filled the silent car. He sounded worried. "You okay?"

They had been on the road a good five minutes by this time. Fiona knew Sam was giving her as much space as he could. "I'm fine, Sam," she said, but she couldn't keep the pain out of her voice.

"He won't be here long." The dark tone in Sam's voice was something Fiona still couldn't get used to.

"I know," she said as she stared out the window. "It was just surprising."

"You think it would help to—"

"What? Talk to him? You've suggested that before, and I think you remember what I said then."

"Yeah, yeah, you're gonna cut out my tongue and tie it in knots. I'm just saying maybe you need—closure."

"Or maybe you're just saying that because _you_ need closure."

"Fi—"

"You haven't been the same since he left, and you know it."

"_I_ haven't been the same?" Sam looked like he was going to start into one of his rants of denial, but he glanced over at Fiona, and the anger faded from his eyes. "No one's been the same since then," he said quietly and turned to stare at the road.

"We're doing all right, Sam," Fiona mumbled. "This is just a—a momentary bump in the road."

Sam nodded, but he didn't look like he really believed it. Fiona didn't either, but what else could she say? They had to be all right. There was no other choice.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Michael had endured a good many boring assignments in his life, none of which compared to a morning at the Miami Art Museum with his mom. Neither of them could think of anything to say to each other or about the art they were supposed to be appreciating. But they looked the part, a sharp dressed man and his mother walking through the museum arm in arm. It was kind of disgusting how easy it was for them to smile and pretend they were having a good time. They had been doing it for so long now.

It was only as they were leaving the museum that Madeline thought of something to say. "We should never do that again."

Michael laughed weakly. "It was even more boring than it sounded."

"We could have gone to the mall, but you probably would have spent the entire time looking for tails or scouting escape routes."

"Yes, I would have."

"Don't think I didn't notice the way you watched for exits when we were in there." Madeline gestured at the building behind them.

"I guess I'm just not built for civilian life."

"Well, I appreciate you coming back to it for a couple of days. Who knows when I'll get to see you again?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't know, Mom. That's why I came. We didn't really get a chance to say goodbye last time."

Madeline nodded. "So that's what this is? You're gonna go back to the CIA for good, and I'll _never_ see you again?"

"Like I said, I don't know. It didn't used to matter how often I could get home because I never came anyway, and I know that bothered you, but I hope you understand why. It's different now, but maybe that's worse. Maybe I can't come back at all."

Madeline averted her eyes, looking anywhere but Michael's face. "I wish I had an answer for you."

Michael sighed. "Never mind. Let's just enjoy the time we have left. Where do you want to have lunch?"

Madeline seemed to understand that the conversation was over, and maybe this would be the last time they would talk about it. There was no argument to be had. So, she threw out the name of a restaurant she liked, and they headed back to the car in silence.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Sam had a hard time keeping his mind on the job, and he knew Fiona was having an even more difficult time. After their conversation in the car, they hadn't addressed the subject, but he knew it was bothering both of them. Actually, the only person who seemed to be acting normally was Jesse which confused Sam. Jesse had always been the most volatile, the most likely to shoot someone or blow them up if he thought it was necessary. Even more than Fiona.

But Jesse seemed fine. It was as if Michael solving all their problems by going back to the CIA didn't bother him at all. Which didn't make sense to Sam, because Jesse had a chance to go back and decided he didn't want that life anymore. He and Michael were completely opposite in that respect. Sam, on the other hand, had always understood why Michael wanted to get back in. He just couldn't understand the timing, the circumstances. The CIA had screwed Michael over so many times, that Sam had almost thought he wouldn't go back if they asked him. Of course, it hadn't been a request, and Sam understood that too, but he didn't have to like it. Never mind that Michael was in this position because he shot a man in cold blood. Maybe that was Sam's biggest problem with it. He knew they all had their reasons for how they reacted to the news three months ago.

Part of Sam wanted the chance to talk to Michael about all these things before he left, but another side thought the conversation might go a little like the one they had when Michael wanted to take money from Carla. And Sam wasn't in the mood to have another fist fight with his best friend, if that's what they were.

It was a good thing the job was a simple interrogation. With only one member of the team thinking clearly, a more intense operation might have gotten them all killed. Sam was glad when they finished up and headed over to Carlito's. Jesse had said Pearce was meeting them there, and Sam was interested to learn how she ended up getting her old job back. It would be a nice distraction, anyway. Or so he thought.

Dani Pearce was sitting at one of the outside tables when Sam and the others arrived. From the looks of it, she had already ordered for them. Sam smiled at the thought that she remembered their preferences so well.

"Keep this up, and we might have to hire you on," Sam said. "There is a job opening."

"So I've heard," Dani said, taking a sip of her drink as the others sat down. "But I don't think I could live up to those standards, and the pay would be a problem."

"Nah, it's practically non-existent."

Dani laughed. "That's the problem."

"It was worth a try," Fiona said with a weak smile.

"I'm sure you all do fine on your own."

"We manage," Sam replied. "So, tell us what brings you back to sunny Miami. We thought you were gone for good."

"Jesse didn't tell you?" Dani looked from Sam to Jesse and back. "I guess I was more surprised _Michael_ didn't tell you. When he got back in, he found some strings to pull to get me reassigned here. I guess he felt he owed me, though I wouldn't have done anything differently."

"Is that so?" Fiona asked, giving Jesse a suspicious look. "And here we found out _Michael_ was in town this morning."

"He's here right now?" Dani asked. "I'm surprised he didn't call."

"He hasn't been calling many people lately," Sam said. "He's just visiting his mom for the weekend."

"Oh." Dani nodded once. "Well, good."

The rest of the evening was an awkward mix of subject changes and Fiona hardly saying a word unless someone asked her a question. What Sam had hoped would be a relaxing gathering of friends turned into another conversation about someone they all wished they could forget.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

The TV was on, but the volume was so low, no human would be able to tell what the characters were saying. Madeline had spent most of the evening bustling in and out of the kitchen, as if looking for something to do, while Michael sat on the couch pretending not to notice. They had run out of things to talk about that afternoon, and Michael was wishing he had booked his return on Sunday morning instead of Monday. He wasn't sure how they were going to spend another day together, and being in this house again made him itch to move. He felt like he should be working on something, chasing down kidnappers, or helping a neighborhood with their gang problem. He had been so good at that, but he threw it all away searching for something he would never get back.

Michael knew now that things would never be the same. He was back in the CIA like he had always wanted, but it wasn't the what he thought it would be. He didn't used to miss people. He didn't wish he could be home. Michael realized that he never had a home until six years ago. It took a combination of his mom and Sam and Fiona to make want something he never knew existed. He didn't realize it until too late, but Michael had been happy in those days. There was nothing he could do about it now, and that grated on him. There was always something. Or he used to think so.

Michael's train of thought was broken when Madeline returned to the living room and sat down next to him.

"I called Ruth," she said.

"Ruth?" Michael didn't see how that was relevant.

"Your former sister-in-law. I asked if we could take Charlie to the park tomorrow. He's two now, you know?"

"Yeah I—I didn't think about it."

"Well, he likes cars, so I thought maybe you could take him for a ride in the Charger. He'd get a kick out of that."

"Sure. I'll have to ask Jesse for the car." Michael wasn't sure what he was agreeing to. He didn't know the first thing about two year olds, except that they were notoriously ill-behaved.

Madeline smiled. "You don't have to act like you're good at this Michael. I just thought you should see him before you go back. You never know if you'll get another chance."

Michael nodded. "Yeah, I know." He smiled. "Maybe I'll share some of my free yogurt with him."

"That's the spirit. Just not too much sugar before dinner, okay?"

Michael almost laughed. "I promise."


	4. It's Complicated

**A tad early on the west coast because I have a splitting headache and don't want to stay up until midnight. In any case, thanks so much for the reviews and alerts and such. I'm really happy that you guys are enjoying the story.**

**Chapter Four "It's Complicated"**

Michael woke to sunlight coming in through the window of his childhood bedroom. Though the twin beds had been replaced with a full size, and the toys had all been packed away into the closet, it still felt the same as the last morning he woke there. He remembered it as if he were still in that moment, a 17 year old kid about to head off to boot camp, afraid of everything except the unknown.

But that was 30 years ago, and Michael had changed since then. His mom had once said he wasn't the boy who left home. Sometimes Michael wondered if that were true, or if maybe he were still that scared little kid, desperate to get away from the shadows that haunted him. But they never went away. There was always some new threat, some ghost to make his life a living hell. It never stopped.

Michael got up from the bed, and his mind instantly returned to the present. He was nothing like that scared little kid. He couldn't afford to be. As he got dressed and ready for the day, Michael began to think about how things would go from here. Today, he would see his nephew, say goodbye to his friends if they would hear him, and prepare to return to the life he always thought he wanted.

When Michael left the bedroom, he saw that his mom wasn't up yet. That wasn't a problem, since he had plenty to do that morning, and they weren't picking up Charlie until lunch. After leaving a note for his mom, Michael borrowed her car keys and headed over to Jesse's place. He thought he would start off easy.

When he answered the door, Jesse looked like he had been asleep. "I'd ask why you're up so early on a Sunday, but I don't know why I would expect any different," he said, opening the door wide enough for Michael to come inside.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Michael said. "I just didn't get a chance to explain to all of you—"

"There's nothing to explain. Not to me, anyway. You want some coffee?"

"Sure." Michael followed Jesse into the kitchen of his apartment. "But I do think I need to tell you why I took that deal after we fought so hard to get away."

Jesse pushed a few buttons on the coffee maker and turned to face Michael. "No you don't. I get it, all right? You didn't have a choice. I'm not the one you need to be explaining to."

"If there had been any other way—"

"I know. We all made sacrifices for each other. Some big ones, at times." Jesse sighed. "Everyone expects you to fix everything, and no one can live up to that. I guess it's just sad when you have to hurt the ones you love the most in order to save them. I get it."

Michael didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected so much understanding from the man who had once threatened to kill him. But things had changed with him and Jesse after they had agreed to be friends. Maybe it wasn't so strange that he understood. He was the only one who had been through the same things Michael had.

"Thank you," Michael finally said. "It means a lot that you—understand."

"It's not me you need to be worried about anyway." Jesse pulled a couple of plain white mugs from the cupboard above the counter. "Sam and Fi don't see it the same way I do." He poured the coffee, and handed a mug to Michael.

"I was hoping to talk to you about that."

"Well, sit down. It's a long story."

The two of them sat at the small kitchen table, and Jesse pushed aside some stray newspapers and magazines.

"Sorry, my maid hasn't been in," he joked.

Michael remembered how much he appreciated Jesse's sarcastic humor before. He'd never said so. "How do they see it?" he asked. "Sam and Fi?"

Jesse raised his eyebrows and took a drink of coffee. "Differently," he said. "As in, Fi is crushed because you went back to the CIA, and Sam is mad that you kept us all in the dark about it, and made decisions without our input. I can't tell you exactly how Fi feels about all this. That's something you're gonna have to find out for yourself, but I think I do understand where Sam is coming from."

"And where's that?"

"We were a team. He's big on that—teamwork. But I think it started when you shot Card. It never sat well with Sam, and everything that happened after that just kind of built on it. I'm just guessing, but I think he thinks you went too far, backed us all into a corner we couldn't get out of without extraordinary measures."

"So, he thinks it's my fault I had to make that choice in the first place? He's the one who made me promise to make it right."

"Of course he did. He's Sam. Like it or not, he's got high standards, and you've known that longer than I have. He's the moral compass, as it were, and you pretty much ignored him after Panama."

"And you think if I'd listened to Sam more, I never would have had to make that deal."

"I don't know. I just think that's how Sam sees it. He's older and more experienced than any of us, but you don't treat him that way because you're some kind of spy prodigy—and I believe that—but it wears on a friendship."

"I never wanted Sam to think I didn't need him."

"I'm not saying you had a choice in the matter. You had to make your decisions for yourself, and Sam's a big boy. He'll get over it eventually, and he might even forgive you."

Michael glanced from his cooling coffee to Jesse. "But Fiona?"

"Well, that's another beast altogether. Sam just got his feelings hurt. Fiona—like I said, she's crushed. I think she knows you didn't have a choice, but in her mind, maybe you always wanted this, and that was more important than being with her."

Michael slid the coffee mug back and forth in his hands, watching the smear it left on the tabletop. "She would have gone to prison. I couldn't—" Michael faltered. How could he tell Jesse the things he couldn't even tell himself?

Jesse nodded. "Yeah, I know. If you're gonna go talk to her, I'd say be honest. Don't try to smooth things over or make her feel better. It might be your last chance."

Michael nodded slowly. "If she doesn't shoot me first."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Sam was next. Michael wasn't looking forward to this conversation, but after what Jesse had told him, he hoped he could make Sam understand his decisions. Michael had never been very good at teamwork, and Sam knew that. Maybe they were destined to fall apart. If it hadn't been a deal with the CIA to keep them all out of prison, it would have been something else. Maybe Michael and Sam weren't compatible friends after all.

When he arrived at Carlito's a flood of memories came back to Michael. He had spent so many good and bad times there with his friends. Sam was sitting alone at the bar with a newspaper. It looked like he had been there a while. Michael knew Sam heard him approach.

"They don't serve yogurt here," Sam said, folding the paper to the sports section.

"Yes they do," Michael said. "But I'm not hungry."

"Are you thirsty? Because I am." Sam signaled to the bartender for two more as Michael sat down beside him.

"I talked to Jesse this morning." Michael rested his arms on the bar and stared straight ahead.

"And what'd he say?" Sam still hadn't looked at Michael.

"That I ignored you and made my decisions without thinking how they would affect you."

Sam turned the page. "The Red Sox are doing well." He took a gulp of his fresh drink. "And Jesse's right. Much more insightful than I'd have given him credit for."

"Yeah. He said that I may have made the right choices as a spy, but not as a friend."

Sam finally turned his head and regarded Michael with a sympathetic expression. "Well, you always were better at being a spy than anything else. For what it's worth, you weren't such a bad friend there for a while."

Michael shook his head and took a drink. "It never lasts."

"They say nothing good ever does."

"You're really resigned to this, aren't you?"

"Mostly. You might not know this, but I did have a life before I met you, and I'm not planning on changing how I live just because you aren't in it anymore."

"You know I never wanted this. If I could go back and—"

"You can't go back, Mikey. I told you to fix things, and you did. Maybe not how I wanted, but how can I complain? And I'm glad you took the time to come down here today. You didn't have to."

"Yes I did. Sam I—I still haven't made it right. Maybe I got everyone off the hook, but things still aren't right."

"What're you gonna do? Run away? From the CIA? I hate to say it, Mike, but you're stuck. I mean, if you want this solution to stick, anyway."

"Some solution. Not one of my best."

"Hey, as far as pulling plans out of your ass goes, I'd say this one is pretty high up on the list. I don't have to like it because you're the one who has to live with it."

"It's not just me, Sam."

"No, you're right. But the rest of us get to move on. Or try."

"Somehow talking to you always makes me feel better."

"Hey, if I'd been trying to make you feel better, I'd have lied. You made your bed, Brother. Now you gotta lie in it."

"Thanks, Sam." Michael stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll miss you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Michael smiled sadly, and turned to leave. He looked back for a moment and saw Sam go back to his newspaper. "Hey, Sam?" he said.

Sam turned and raised his eyebrows.

"Thanks for the drink."

Sam smiled. "Anytime, Buddy."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Jesse had given Michael Fiona's new address earlier that morning. He had saved her for last because he had a feeling this conversation would either be the longest or the shortest. And the most difficult. Jesse had been understanding and helpful. Sam had been resigned. Fiona on the other hand would be emotional, and rightly so. Michael couldn't compare his relationship with her to that with his friends or his mom. Fi was different and always had been.

As Michael knocked on her door, he wished he were anywhere else and at the same time, couldn't imagine himself not being here. It took a few moments for her to answer the door, and when she did there was a mix of surprise and dismay in her expression.

"Hi, Fi," Michael said, when she only stared at him.

"Michael," she replied tersely. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you. I didn't get the chance to explain before."

"What's to explain?" Fiona's voice rose an octave. "I didn't think you'd be coming back here."

"I didn't _want_ to leave. I couldn't see any alternative."

"But you did leave, and I'm not about to—" Fiona put her hands on her head. "I can't talk to you right now."

Michael put his hand on the door to prevent her from closing it in his face. "This could be my last chance. I can't leave knowing I didn't tell you everything."

Fiona stared into his eyes. She seemed surprised, and maybe a little skeptical that he meant what he said.

"Just give me a few minutes," Michael pleaded. "That's all I'm asking."

Fiona chewed on the inside of her mouth for a moment. "Fine," she said, stepping back into the entryway. "You may have your few minutes, and then you have to leave."

Michael heard the unspoken _or I'll shoot you_ behind her voice. He had expected as much. He tried to think of a good starting place, but nothing was coming to mind. Here he had only a few minutes left in the world with the only woman he had ever really loved, and he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Are you just going to stand there gaping at me?" Fiona crossed her arms.

"No, I—no. I just don't know where to start."

"How about why you went back to the CIA after you promised me you were done with them."

"Because you would have gone to prison if I hadn't."

"We _all_ would have gone to prison. Is that really all you can come up with? We knew what we were getting into. You, on the other hand, sold your soul for a _job_."

"That is not what this is about. They would have sent you back to the UK. You would have ended up dead, Fi. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let Sam and Jesse and my mom go to jail because of what I did, but I especially couldn't lose you like that."

Fiona shook her head. "But you lost me anyway. Except in this version, I have to live with the fact that you had a _choice_."

"Fi, I couldn't see a way out."

"There was no way out, Michael. We were all prepared to deal with that."

"I wasn't!"

Fiona gave a defeated sigh. "You can't save everyone, Michael. You can't have everything both ways."

Michael remembered his mother's words from several months ago. She told him he was like his father in that he always wanted things both ways, and when he didn't get it, the ones closest to him suffered.

"I screwed up," Michael said. "More than anyone realizes. I just—I couldn't take everyone down with me."

Fiona wrapped her arms tighter around herself as if she had suddenly become very cold. "Your time is up," she said in a flat tone. "There's the door." She pointed.

"Fi—"

"You've explained enough. Nothing you say will ever fix this. It _cannot_ be fixed."

There was a part of Michael, that small but powerful optimism, that would never believe that. But he only nodded and turned toward the door. As he walked out of Fiona's life forever, it didn't feel any different from the first time he left her in Ireland. Only that time, he thought he was doing the right thing. This time, he just felt like he had really screwed up so bad even he could never fix it.


	5. Hope for the Lost

**I forgot to upload at midnight. Oops. I blame sinus headaches and Chaos. Mostly Chaos.**

**Chapter Five "Hope for the Lost"**

Before Michael returned to his Mom's house, he made one more stop. It was almost an afterthought, though he knew he should see her before he left again, probably for good. Dani Pearce looked so different in jeans and a t-shirt as opposed to her usual gray suits. Michael already knew that she wasn't all professional all the time, but it was odd to see her like this. She looked happy, and Michael wasn't sure he had seen that before.

"Michael?" she said with surprise when he showed up at her house. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Jesse made it sound like you were just going to be in and out to see your mom."

"I wanted to see how you were doing." Michael flashed his perfect smile, compartmentalizing the events of the morning.

"Well, come on in." Dani stood to the side and ushered Michael into the house. She was the only one who seemed genuinely glad to see him. "I'm still unpacking a bit, but it's all been pretty smooth." She pushed aside a half empty box with her foot and showed Michael into the living room. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No thanks," Michael said. "I've already had coffee with Jesse and beer with Sam."

"Making the rounds I see."

"Something like that. You said you talked to Jesse?"

"He came by my office yesterday morning. And I saw them all last night. Why?"

Michael shrugged. "It's good you still have friends here."

"Yes." Dani drew out the word. "What are you getting at?"

"Nothing. I'm glad it's all working out. I owe you a lot."

Dani shook her head. "You don't owe me anything. You helped me get the man who murdered my fiance; I'd say we're even."

"Did it help?"

"What do you mean?"

"Catching him. Did it help?"

"Yeah. A lot."

"That's interesting."

"Why."

"Because it never did for me."

"I'm not like you, Michael. The circumstances were different too. I guess I had more time to come to terms with it. It was still hard not to take the easy way out and shoot him."

Michael laughed humorlessly. "The easy way. Let me tell you, it isn't."

Dani shrugged and sunk into the white couch. "I don't know what to tell you, Michael."

"I didn't exactly come here for advice."

"Then why did you?"

Michael stared out the long row of windows facing the backyard. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said.

"I'm fine. Thanks to you."

Michael turned back and looked her in the eye. "Then I guess I did one thing right."

Dani shook head head. "This doesn't have to be over. It never is as long as you're willing to fight."

Michael smiled sadly. "I appreciate your optimism, but _this_ is over. I can't come back anymore."

"I don't believe that."

"Well, let me know when you come up with a plan to get me out of the CIA that doesn't involve everyone I love going to prison for life."

Dani nodded slowly. "I will."

"Thank you," Michael said firmly. "For everything you've ever done for me. You're a good friend."

"You mean, after I held you at gunpoint?"

"You were just doing your job. But yes, after that."

"You're welcome, then. I'd do it all again."

Michael nodded. "Me too."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Michael had taken the Charger when he left Jesse's place. He planned on returning it in the morning before heading to the airport. Jesse made him promise not to get a scratch on it, and Michael thought it was funny how quickly that man became attached to cars.

Madeline was waiting when Michael got back to the house. She had a look that said she wanted to ask what he had been up to all morning, but she just got into the car and didn't say anything. Michael considered explaining anyway, but he couldn't think of where to start. So, they drove across town in silence. Michael already knew where Ruth lived because even though he wasn't close with his former sister-in-law, he liked to keep tabs on anyone connected to him. Anyone who could be used as leverage, and Charlie was one of those people.

When they arrived at the house, Michael was going to wait in the car, but Madeline stood on the curb waiting for him. Michael prepared himself for what might be the most awkward experience of his life. The two of them walked up the concrete pathway to the house. It was one of those neighborhoods that had wrought iron gates instead of screen doors. Madeline rang the doorbell, and they waited for a moment in the hot sun. That was one thing Michael wouldn't miss. Maybe the only thing.

When Ruth came to the door, she didn't look particularly happy to see them. Michael knew she had never liked them very much. "Charlie's in his room," she said.

Michael and Madeline followed her inside. There were toys and books scattered throughout the living room and a stack of unopened bills on the little table by the door. As Madeline went to coax Charlie away from his toys, Michael waited just inside the door. Ruth eyed him suspiciously, and he did his best to ignore her.

"Madeline says you're only here for the weekend?" Ruth said, giving Michael a curious look.

"Yeah," he replied. "I may not be back for a long time." He didn't know why he was telling her this. Perhaps just to fill the silence.

"Good," Ruth said. She didn't try to hide the fact that she didn't want Michael around. He could understand why.

"Listen." Michael stared at the carpet. "If you ever need anything—"

"Why would I need anything from you?"

Michael looked Ruth in the eye. "Because you've got three months' worth of unpaid bills stacked up and a lawn that hasn't been watered since last year. I'm just offering, Ruth. For Nate's sake."

"Well, you know, we wouldn't be having this problem if Nate were still alive, would we? But he's dead, and who's fault is that? Things didn't work out between us, but I know he would have taken care of his son. Not that you know anything about that."

"Ruth—"

"Here we are!" Madeline announced as she led Charlie by the hand out of his bedroom.

Michael was struck by how much Charlie resembled Nate, even as young as he was. He had the same big eyes and hopeful expression. For a moment, he looked as if he might be shy and hide behind Madeline at the sight of a strange man in the house, but instead, he let go of her hand and rushed up to Michael with a smile on his face.

"Can I ride in your car?" he asked. Madeline must have told him about the Charger.

In spite of his discomfort, Michael smiled down at the little boy. "Sure," he said. "But you gotta wait until you're sixteen to drive it."

Charlie laughed and grabbed Michael's hand, pulling him toward the door. "Bye, Mommy!" he called as they left the house.

Madeline followed after them, and Ruth stood in the doorway watching them go. She still didn't look happy about the situation, but it was only one afternoon. Michael would be gone soon enough, and she would never have to worry about him again.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

After a picnic in the park, Charlie wanted to go to the playground. Madeline convinced Michael to go with him because he was too young to play by himself. So, Michael spent an hour or so pushing his nephew on the swings or catching him at the bottom of the slide. At one point, he overheard a nearby mom comment to her friend that the father and son were so cute together. He didn't waste time correcting her because it would seem a bit awkward that he heard them from so far away. It was a gift and a curse to be able to process so much information at once. Michael found himself watching reflections in the metal slide and keeping an eye on everyone who entered or left the park. He wished he could turn that part of his brain off for a while. At least Charlie was having fun.

But after a while, the boy got sleepy, so they headed back to Madeline's house for him to take a nap. He ended up falling asleep in the back of Michael's car in spite of how loud the Charger was.

For a while, things were quiet. Charlie slept in Michael's room, and Madeline attempted to bake cookies. Michael settled in on the couch and read the cooking magazines on the coffee table. A fly on the wall could imagine they were a normal family. For the moment, Michael allowed the illusion. The weekend was almost over, and he might not ever return. One last quiet afternoon with the sun streaming through the front windows was all he could ask for.

It was less than an hour later when Charlie awoke with renewed energy. He came tearing out of the bedroom and jumped up on the couch next to Michael. He had a conspiratorial look in his eyes.

"What?" Michael asked, looking into those all too familiar brown eyes.

"Can we go for a ride?"

"Again?"

Charlie nodded vigorously.

"But M—Grandma is making cookies."

Charlie looked toward the kitchen and then at the door as if trying to decide which he wanted more.

"It's okay," Michael said. "Grandma doesn't make very good cookies. But don't tell her I said that."

Charlie grinned and clapped his hands. "Yay! Let's go." He slid off the couch and started toward the door, but Michael held out his arm, stopping Charlie.

"You have to ask first," he said.

Charlie sighed dramatically and turned and ran into the kitchen. "Grandma!" he practically shrieked. "Can I go for a ride in the black car?"

Madeline looked away from her project for a moment. "But I'm making you some cookies, and you have to go home soon."

"Uncle Michael says your cookies aren't good."

Michael covered his eyes with his hand.

"Did he?" Madeline replied, glaring at Michael. "Well, then, I guess you two can go for a drive, and _Michael_ can drop you off at your mom's house."

"Yippee!" Charlie jumped in the air and gave Madeline a hug. "I love you, Grandma."

"I love you too, Sweetie. Have fun, and be a good boy."

Charlie then rushed back to the living room where Michael was waiting.

"I told you not to tell," Michael said as they headed for the door.

"Oh, I forgot." Charlie looked sheepish.

"It's okay. I just won't tell you anymore secrets."

"Aww! I can keep a secret. I'm real good at it if I try."

"Really?" They reached the car and Michael opened the passenger door. The seat was already down for Charlie to climb in the back.

"Yeah. Can I ride in the front?"

Michael looked at him with skepticism. "Only if you promise not to tell anyone I let you."

"I promise. Pinky promise!" Charlie held out his hand with his little finger extended.

Michael rolled his eyes and returned the gesture. "All right, fine." He put the passenger seat back up. "Hop in."

After making sure Charlie was securely buckled in, Michael got in the driver's side and pulled out onto the road. The drive to Ruth's house was a bit of a distance, so Charlie would have plenty of time to enjoy his ride.

"When I get big, I'm gonna drive a car like this," Charlie said as they merged onto the freeway.

"Is that so?" Michael asked. "Grandma said you liked cars."

"I love cars! My daddy had a bunch of model cars, and Mommy says I can't play with them, but I can keep them in my room."

Michael nodded. "Yeah, your daddy liked cars too."

"Did he have one like this?"

"No, but he wanted one." Michael smiled sadly at the thought.

"Well, I'm gonna have one." Charlie crossed his arms in determination. "Uncle Michael, why did my daddy die?"

Michael was initially speechless at the question. He knew Charlie must have wondered what happened to his dad, but he hadn't expected the sudden change in the subject. It took a moment, but Michael finally gathered his thoughts.

"He was trying to stop a bad guy," he said. "He was doing something good."

"Did the bad guy get away, then?" Charlie sounded miserable at the thought.

"No," Michael assured him. "We got the bad guy. Just like your daddy would have wanted."

"That's good. I wish Daddy didn't have to die."

Michael nodded slowly, trying to keep his focus on the road. "So do I, Charlie."

The rest of the drive was mostly silent as Charlie gazed out the window in awe of the scenery and the speed at which they passed trees and skyscrapers. Occasionally he would emit an excited noise as they passed closely to another car or made a sharp turn.

When they finally pulled up to Ruth's house, Charlie was about to undo his seatbelt when Michael stopped him.

"Don't move," he said in his "operative voice."

Charlie looked up at him wide eyed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Just stay right here, and don't move, okay?"

Charlie nodded, too afraid to say anything else. Michael knew he had frightened his nephew, but given the fact that Ruth's gate was left open and the lock on the iron door was broken, it was certainly time to be afraid.


	6. Change of Plans

**Chapter Six "Change of Plans"**

Michael pulled his gun from under the seat where he'd left it earlier. He clicked the safety off and gave Charlie one last look.

"Remember, don't move until I come back," Michael said in his no nonsense voice, which sounded a lot like his normal voice.

Charlie only nodded. He looked like he might start crying. If Michael's suspicions were correct, there would be a good reason for that.

He climbed out of the car and hurried to the house, watching for any movement as he went. Up close, Michael could see that the door was open a crack as if someone left in a hurry. He smelled gunpowder and blood. Nudging the door open further with the end of his gun, Michael saw what he had feared. Ruth lay in a growing pool of blood. She had twho gunshot wounds to the head. Her eyes were wide open, fear frozen in her expression.

Michael turned and went back to the car. He couldn't leave Charlie alone when there was a killer on the loose. As he walked down the path to the street, he pulled out his phone. Michael realized with dismay that he wasn't sure who his first call would be. The days when he had to choose between Sam and Fiona seemed like a walk in the park now. He decided on Pearce. She was on good enough terms with Michael to come help him with this, and since he was now officially back in the CIA, it wouldn't look good for him to be calling his old associates for things like this.

The sound of sirens in the distance told Michael that he wouldn't need to call the police. A neighbor must have heard something. Michael realized that for the first time, he had stumbled upon a crime scene and would not instantly be a suspect. So, he put his gun in the trunk and called Dani.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Michael, what's up?"

"I need you to get over to Ruth's house as soon as possible."

"Why? What's going on?"

"She's dead. I was dropping Charlie off when I found her. I can't leave him alone, and I need to find out who did this."

"You got it. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Make it faster. The police are almost here."

Michael hung up and sighed heavily. Charlie was still waiting in the passenger seat, but he was sitting up on his knees with his hands on the windowsill. He watched with a deer in the headlights expression as Michael move around the car. When Michael reached the door, he opened it and crouched down to Charlie's eye level.

"Look," he said in a low voice. "There's gonna be a bunch of cops here in a minute, but you're safe, okay? I won't let anything hurt you."

"Where's Mommy?" Charlie demanded, close to tears.

Michael broke eye contact. The gravel in the cracks of the sidewalk became fascinating.

Charlie tried to climb out of the car, unsatisfied with Michael's silence, but Michael stopped him.

"You have to stay here, Charlie."

"I don't wanna. Where's Mommy?" His voice rose sharply, and the way his eyebrows scrunched reminded Michael of how Nate used to look when he didn't get something he wanted.

Michael was still holding onto Charlie's arms to keep him from running to the house. "Mommy—Mommy's gone," he said.

Though Charlie was only a child, he knew what Michael meant. The tears in his eyes spilled over and streamed down his face. He wrapped his arms around Michael's neck, and the weight of his wordless cry almost caused Michael to lose his balance. So, he sat down on the sidewalk as the blaring sirens reached them and drowned out the sound of Charlie's cries.

It didn't take long for the police to surround the house, and though they approached Michael and Charlie, they seemed to understand the need for subtlety with a child involved. Michael made eye contact with the officer who seemed to be in charge.

"Anyone inside?" the man asked.

Knowing he meant anyone living, Michael shook his head. He watched as the officers entered the house. He needed to get in there, but he couldn't leave Charlie like this. Wherever Pearce was, she needed to get here fast.

Michael knew he should call his mom. He just didn't know how to talk to her right now. He also couldn't explain what happened without upsetting Charlie more. This was getting to be a problem. On top of that, Michael had left his mom's car at Jesse's place when he borrowed the Charger that morning, so she wouldn't be able to get there on her own anyway.

It was looking more and more like Michael should have called Jesse. That could be fixed at least. As far as Michael could tell, Jesse was still willing to help him. A quick text message should take care of things.

A few seconds after Michael sent the message to bring his mom to Ruth's house, Jesse replied: _be there ASAP_.

No questions, no hesitation. Michael wondered how he had managed to make such a good friend. He couldn't reasonably take credit for that.

Pearce arrived soon after that and made her way through the police line. Neighbors had started to gather in their doorways by this time, and the cops were getting impatient to question Michael. They would just have to wait until Madeline showed up with Jesse because Michael wasn't leaving Charlie with anyone else, and he wasn't talking about what he saw in front of his nephew.

Pearce reached Michael, and he stood up from the sidewalk, still holding Charlie crying into his shirt. She didn't say anything but put her hand in the middle of Charlie's back and gave Michael a questioning look.

"See if you can get inside," Michael said. "Jesse is bringing my mom over, but they'll be a while still."

Pearce nodded and turned toward the house. As her hand left Charlie, he seemed to notice its absence and watched her go curiously.

Michael turned his body away from the house, trying to shield Charlie as much as he could. Still he couldn't take away the noise of cops barking at each other or the flashing of squad car lights. The sun was still high above the horizon, beating down on all of them, bathing the scene in washed out gold tones.

Michael stood there, unmoving, waiting for the sobs to subside, but doubting they ever would. How could anyone go on after something like this? Charlie was just a kid. He didn't deserve to lose his whole family like that. Michael began to think about what would happen next. Madeline would take Charlie to live with her. Ruth didn't have any family in the area, and from what Michael could tell, she wasn't close to any of them. It wouldn't be so bad for the kid growing up with someone like Michael's mom. He could do a lot worse.

Michael thought about Ruth's rejection of his offer to help earlier that day. He wished he had said something more now, made her realize he did care as hard as that was to believe. Now, Michael would be sure Charlie never had to go without anything he needed. Anything Michael could provide, anyway. But there would be no replacing his parents. No one could ever fill that void.

Charlie was beginning to lose some of his steam by the time Madeline's car pulled up to the curb behind Michael's. Jesse hopped out of the driver's seat with all his usual energy, while Madeline moved more slowly and deliberately toward Michael and Charlie. She knew without asking what must have happened. Jesse seemed more confused, but he didn't ask.

"Pearce is inside," Michael said. "I'm going to see if I can help." He tried to hand Charlie over to Madeline, but the boy didn't want to let go.

"Charlie, Honey, you have to come with me now." Madeline spoke in a soft voice. "Can you get some of his things from the house?" she asked Michael as Charlie allowed himself to change hands.

Michael nodded and turned toward the house. Jesse followed him, and no one tried to stop them. Inside the house, Pearce was talking to the lead detective who perked up when he saw Michael.

"You're Michael Westen?" he asked. "I'm Detective Carrillo."

Michael shook the man's hand. "What have you found so far?"

"Not much. You were the first one to discover the body of your sister-in-law, right?"

"Ex sister-in-law. Yes. I was dropping off my nephew when I saw that someone had broken in."

"And your brother is..."

"Dead. Last year. You should talk to Ruth's friends and see if anyone had something against her. Maybe she owed money or—"

"Thanks. I do know how to do my job. You weren't close with her, obviously?"

"I think I've had two conversations with her. Maybe it was just one. This morning."

"And you've never been in this house before today?"

"No. She moved here after the divorce. I've been—out of town. Look, I don't have much information about Ruth, but I can help you find whoever killed her."

"Your friend here was saying you work for the CIA?" Carrillo gestured at Pearce.

"Yes." Michael's phone rang and he looked at the display. "In fact, that's my boss now. Excuse me."

Michael stepped away from the group and answered the phone. "Raines, now's not a good time."

"It's about to get worse," Raines replied. "Riley's out."

"Out?" Michael lowered his voice. "What do you mean, out?"

"Escaped. Vanished. She must have had help."

"How does that even happen?"

"You should know. You're Michael Westen, after all."

"Where was she being held?"

"A CIA holding facility just outside of Miami. They were getting ready to move her for her trial, and someone attacked the convoy. It was a small team."

"When did this happen?"

"Last night. We just got the go ahead to send you after her."

"Me?"

"She chased you for months. You know her moves. And you're already in Miami. We've sent all the information over to Pearce's office. She'll be working with you on this."

"All right, I've got some things to finish up here, and then we'll get to work."

"Some things? What's more important than this?"

"My ex sister-in-law was just murdered. I'll call you back."

Michael hung up the phone and motioned to Pearce. She excused herself from the detective and moved over to the corner of the room where Michael was standing.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Riley escaped last night. We're on the case."

"You and me? That 'we'?"

"Yes. I need to get things wrapped up here, and then we should head over to your office."

"Okay. I'll get some stuff for Charlie out of his room."

"Good. Hey, grab a couple of the model cars."

Pearce gave Michael a curious look. "Okay." She nodded and turned toward the hallway.

Michael rejoined Jesse and Detective Carrillo. By that time, crime scene technicians had come and begun investigating the house.

"I'm sorry about that, Detective," Michael said. "But we're going to have to cut this short. If you find anything more, I'd appreciate a call."

Carrillo nodded. "And you let me know if you think of anything helpful?"

"Of course." Michael smiled, reflexively.

Jesse followed Michael out of the house. He had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time, but he seemed to be about to break his silence. "You want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

Michael looked up and down the street. "I have to go. Riley escaped."

"What?"

"I know. Our worst nightmare. The CIA's sending me and Pearce after her."

"Well, that's good right? So you're gonna be around longer?"

"Yeah. I need you to keep an eye on this investigation if you can. I don't know why this happened, but this seems too convenient to be a coincidence."

"You think Riley had something to do with murdering Ruth?"

"Either she's smart, and she gets out of the country, or she's crazy—which is more likely given what we know—and she sticks around to get her revenge. She promised to hunt me to the ends of the Earth."

"But why kill Ruth?"

"It wouldn't be my first choice either. Maybe she's got nothing to do with it. I just want to be sure."

"Okay, all right. I'll keep tabs on Carrillo and see what he finds out."

"Thanks, Jess. I owe you."

"Yeah, you do, and one of these days, I'll collect." Jesse turned and headed back to where Madeline and Charlie were waiting. Soon, Pearce came out of the house to bring Charlie his overnight bag. In her other hand, she held a model '69 Chevy Camaro. She handed it to Charlie who gave her a weak smile before burying his face in Madeline's shoulder again.

As Jesse drove the last of Michael's family away, Pearce walked slowly up the sidewalk to where Michael was leaning against the trunk of his car.

"Hell of a coincidence," she said. "Maybe."

"That's what I was thinking," Michael replied.

"Let's get to work then."

* * *

**A/N: In case anyone is wondering, this wasn't the character death I meant by "major character death." There will still be a death of one of the important characters. Just to be clear.**


	7. Getting the Band Back Together

**Thanks to my beta reader, Riter's Fury for helping me fix a few things in this chapter, and to all you readers out there. I hope you like what's to come.**

**Chapter Seven "Getting the Band Back Together"**

After arriving at Madeline's house with Charlie, Jesse called Sam. He knew the oldest member of the team would be more likely to agree to help, and he could then do the job of convincing Fiona. For some reason, she listened to Sam. It was starting to weird Jesse out.

After letting the phone go to voicemail three times, Sam finally answered. "What do you want?"

"Whoa, there," Jesse replied. "Why you dodging me?"

"Because it's Sunday, and I'm planning on taking Elsa to dinner, and when _you_ call, it usually means a job."

"Not exactly."

"Exactly. What does that mean?"

"Ruth's been murdered, and Riley's on the loose."

"Why do I answer the phone?" Sam sighed. "Where's Mike?"

"Going back to Dani's office. I guess the CIA wants him tracking Riley down. He asked me to look into Ruth's death, but I'm car-less right now."

"Does he think they're connected?"

"He didn't say that in so many words, but it could very well be. So can I get some help here, or what?"

"Yeah, yeah. What about Charlie? He okay?"

"Define 'okay.' He's here at Maddie's house. They're both shook up, I think maybe someone should stay with them."

"Someone? I take it you want me to call that someone?"

"She listens to you."

"Don't tell her that. You know she's not exactly a big Westen fan right now?"

"I know. But she and Maddie were close, and there's a kid involved. If you ask her, she'll come. Mike's gonna be busy with finding Riley, I doubt if he'll be around much."

"Fine, Jesse. You twisted my arm. I'll call Fi and head over there now. If Riley's out, chances are she's coming after all of us."

*** * * Burn Notice * * * **

Olivia Riley had disappeared in a hail of bullets and some kind of airborne sedative on a little used road between a secret holding facility and the airport. The driver of the armored van and three guards were dead. That confused Michael a bit. Why bother with the sedative if you just planned on killing them all anyway? According to a preliminary report from the coroner's office, the four men had definitely been unconscious when they were killed.

After gathering all this information from Dani's office, the two of them had traveled out to the scene of the attack. CIA investigators had been poking around since the night before, and much of the work had already been done. Michael still wanted to make his own judgments rather than trust people who were being paid to do it for him. He knew he had gotten into a bad habit of doing everything for himself because he could never be sure when someone was lying to him. It might have been unreasonable in this instance, but he didn't put anything past these people anymore.

Dani seemed to understand Michael's need to see things for himself, and she was definitely curious herself as to what happened on that lonely road. As they looked around, she noticed the way Michael avoided the other investigators and didn't look anyone in the eye. He seemed distracted, which she could understand after the day's events. But even then, Dani had always known Michael to be at his best while under pressure or stress. Maybe this was different because he didn't have the assurance of his friends' help, but from everything Dani had read of his previous time with the Agency, Michael was known for how well he worked on his own. She knew she would get to the bottom of it eventually. She would just have to wait for the right moment to ask him.

Michael didn't spend long looking around the scene before he returned to where Dani was examining the wreckage of the van. Whoever pulled off the extraction had set it on fire afterward, so there wasn't much left.

"Why haven't they cleared the road yet?" Michael asked.

Dani knew that wasn't what was really on his mind, but she humored him for the moment. "This is just an access road. No one but the CIA uses it, and they didn't want to contaminate the scene."

"I think they've contaminated it plenty."

Dani raised her eyebrows. "You want to tell me what you're thinking, or do I have to guess?"

Michael looked around the scene as if worried someone was listening. "Why the sedative?" he said, looking back at Dani.

"What do you mean? They had to incapacitate the driver and the guards."

"Why bother if they just planned on killing them?"

"Okay, you're right. They coroner said they were unconscious when they died. How does that help us?"

"There was one guy."

"What?"

"One man did this. There's only one set of footprints in the dirt by the road, one caliber of ammunition, one gun. The sedative gave him a chance to get in and kill all of them before they could fight back."

"How could one man pull all this off?"

"It's not that hard if you're willing to kill anyone who gets in your way."

"Why do I get the feeling you know this guy?"

"I can't be sure. I know it was one guy, and if I'm right, he at least has a lot in common with someone I knew. Let's hope that's all."

Dani shook her head. "This just keeps getting better."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

As Fiona stood on the front porch of Madeline's house, she suddenly felt very different than she had any of the other times she had been there. Even after Michael left, she had still come around from time to time for work or sometimes just to see how Madeline was doing. They were still friends after all. But now, knowing Michael was back, and she was here—indirectly—because he needed her again. It should have been just like old times, but it wasn't. It was nothing like that.

Madeline answered the door and looked surprised. "You don't usually knock," she said.

Fiona faltered. "Well, I... didn't want to barge in if..."

"It's all right." Madeline pulled her inside. "I get it."

Fiona found herself standing in the living room. Charlie was sitting on the couch, holding a model car in both hands. He didn't look up at the sound of Fiona's voice, or even when she sat down in the chair across from him. Madeline went into the kitchen to finish dinner, but Fiona had a feeling no one would be eating much.

Fiona had never been good with children, especially not those too young to play Army men. Charlie might have been more likely to put them in his mouth. The car was something. Fiona knew Charlie liked cars. She had seen him only a few times when he had been visiting Madeline in the past few months, and all those times he was playing with toy cars or talking about some fancy car he saw on the road.

It was a start.

"What kind of car is that?" Fiona asked.

Charlie looked up at her with disinterested eyes. He shrugged.

"Can I see?" Fiona held out her hand, but Charlie didn't seem to want to let it go. So, Fiona leaned in closer to get a look. "Oh, that's a Camaro. Very nice. Do you have a favorite kind of car?"

Charlie seemed to be thinking. "I like black ones."

Fiona raised her eyebrows. She had an idea of what Charlie meant. "Is that so? I think I prefer blue."

Charlie nodded. "Blue is good too."

"Is there any kind you don't like?"

"Um, brown ones, maybe."

"Yeah, they're kind of boring. What kind of car do you want to drive when you grow up?"

Charlie knew the answer to that question. "One like Uncle Michael's."

Fiona nodded, trying not to show that she her discomfort at the direction of the conversation. "Did you have fun riding in it today?"

Charlie nodded vigorously. "I got to—um..."

"What? You got to what?"

"I can't tell. It's a secret."

"Oh, I see. And you promised not to tell right?"

"Yeah. I told Uncle Michael I'm good at keeping secrets, and he made me promise not to tell, so I'm not gonna."

"All right. I wouldn't want you to. It's good to keep secrets with your family. Just don't keep secrets from them."

Charlie nodded again. "I won't keep any secrets from Uncle Michael, 'cause he's so smart, he'd figure it out anyway."

Fiona smiled stiffly. "Yes he is."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

After Sam made a few calls to his law enforcement contacts, he and Jesse headed over to the station to talk to Detective Carrillo. There wasn't much they could do on their own, but hopefully the detective would be willing to point them in the right direction, or do so unwittingly.

"So what's this guy like?" Sam asked as they drove through thick, rush hour traffic.

"Seems pretty by the book," Jesse replied. "Which means he's probably not going to give us much, but at least he'll see the case through."

"So, good cop. I guess we can work with that. Maybe convince him we can help."

"He doesn't seem like the type to let civilians get involve. Even civilians as awesome as we are."

"You are just a ray of sunshine today, my friend. I knew I shouldn't have answered the phone."

Jesse gave Sam a look of mock sternness. "Sam, eventually, you will always answer the phone."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, probably. If it'd been Mike calling, I'd have answered the first time."

"I knew that. You know, a guy could start to get jealous?"

"Tough. Although, I was surprised he didn't call me himself."

"I think he sees me as a friendly right now. How did your conversation go this morning?"

"Depressing." Sam laughed humorlessly. "Maybe that's why he called you."

"Actually, he texted me, but he was a little busy with a hysterical child."

Sam shook his head. "Man, poor kid."

Jesse stared out the window. "Yeah."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Michael returned to his mother's house very late that evening. The whole neighborhood was silent as if it were rows of headstones rather than houses, and the people in them slept in coffins. There were porch lights and even a glow here and there from a window, but Michael didn't see them. He didn't see the bright lights of his mother's house casting long shadows on the front lawn.

There was a row of cars on the curb, or at least it seemed so. Michael saw Sam's first and then Fiona's. He anticipated another awkward conversation, but this time he had a better reason for being there. Riley wasn't just his enemy, and it was clear that all of them cared about Charlie. He would have to focus on those things and avoid bringing personal feelings into it. Not that it would do much good.

As he walked through the front door, Michael noticed the feeling of dead silence increased. The lights in the living room and kitchen were on, but the only person he could see was Fiona sitting in a chair near the couch, staring at the doorway, and now, at Michael.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked. It wasn't accusing; he was curious.

Fiona glared at him. "Sam called me," she said. "He wanted someone to keep an eye on Madeline and Charlie while he and Jesse went poking around with the cops."

"I didn't ask him to do that."

"You didn't ask him anything. You called _Jesse_ first."

"I knew he wouldn't bite my head off."

Fiona stood up and crossed her arms. "Is that what this is? I'm angry because you didn't call _me_ when you needed help, and that constitutes biting your head off?"

Michael didn't rise to Fiona's baiting. He didn't change his calm tone. "You made it clear this morning that you didn't want to see me anymore. Which is why I'm surprised that you're here."

Fiona's jaw tensed. "You and I may be done, but this concerns all of us. And if Ruth's death has anything to do with Riley, we're all in a lot of trouble. You just do your job, and we'll take care of the rest."

Michael nodded. "Where are Sam and Jesse?"

Fiona jerked her head to the side. "In the garage. They've been out there all evening."

"What about my mom?"

"She went to check on Charlie. He hasn't been sleeping well since she put him to bed a few hours ago."

Michael nodded again. "Thanks for coming, Fi. You didn't have to."

Fiona blinked hard. "Yes I did."


	8. Stalling for Time

**Chapter Eight "Stalling for Time"**

Jesse was lying on the hood of Madeline's car when Michael came into the garage. His long legs dangled to the floor, and his toes tapped on the concrete. Sam was sitting at the workbench with a computer and a clutter of other spying equipment.

"Is there some reason you're both hiding out here?" Michael asked.

"We're not hiding," Jesse said, his eyes still closed. "We're waiting."

"For what?"

Sam turned away from the computer. "Something interesting to happen. We planted a bug in Carrillo's office. Earlier he got a call that a Detective Elias was taking over the case. Trouble is, we can't find any record of a Detective Elias anywhere in South Florida. We've been listening ever since to see what Carrillo finds. It didn't sound like he wanted to let it go."

"This isn't good." Michael paced the garage floor. "If there's some kind of coverup going on, we have no idea who could be behind it or why. One person attacked the prison van carrying Olivia Riley. If that same person is involved in this, he must have a lot of connections. Then why take the risk of getting Riley alone? It doesn't make sense."

Jesse sat up and blinked rapidly as he felt a head rush. "One guy? No, that doesn't make sense. I mean, he would have had _time_ to hide Riley and kill Ruth, but why?"

"Ruth could be a distraction. Something to keep us from figuring out his real motives, but if he needs Riley, it's pretty obvious he's coming after us. The CIA is watching airports and marinas. There's been no sign of her. She's not leaving."

Sam looked nervously between Jesse and Michael. "Then what does she want?"

Michael crossed his arms. "If I had to guess, all of us dead or in prison. Probably dead."

Jesse raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, and now she's got help."

Michael rubbed his forehead. This little trip had turned into his worst nightmare. "For now, we need to focus on finding Riley. Is Carrillo still in his office?"

Sam shrugged. "As far as we can tell."

"Okay. I'm going to go over there and let him know about the coverup and that we intend to help him with the case. Then we should start trying to retrace Riley's steps since last night. She has too much of a head start already." Michael was already headed for the door.

"Hey." Sam put up his hand. "When do you plan on sleeping?"

Michael turned his head. "Later," he said. "We have work to do."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Michael didn't like police stations. His experiences with law enforcement had never been particularly good. But he wasn't ready to present all his theories to the CIA just yet, so having a frustrated detective on his side could be a good thing. It could also get him into a lot of trouble, but he was trying to stay positive.

Most of the lights were out as Michael walked into the station. There was a long hallway from the entrance that led to a pair of double doors into a large room full of desks. Carrillo's was at the end of a row near the back wall, and the man himself was hunched over a mess of files. He didn't look up when Michael walked in.

As he approached Michael noticed an empty coffee mug near Carrillo's hand with a dark stain in the bottom of it. The lamp on the desk illuminated only that area, and the rest of the room was in darkness.

"Carrillo."

The man jerked upright and stared at Michael. "What the hell are you doing here, Westen?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Weren't you removed from the case?"

Carrillo eyed Michael suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"Doesn't matter. But I know Detective Elias doesn't exist, and I know the conclusion you must be coming to: that there's a coverup in the works here. I want to help you change that."

"You shouldn't know these things. How do I know you're not involved?"

"Because someone killed my nephew's mother. I think it was a distraction. Something to keep me from catching a dangerous woman who escaped CIA custody last night."

"What are you talking about?"

"I shouldn't even be telling you this, but you seem like a good cop, and you want the truth to come out; you want justice. That's what I want, but I don't think Ruth was killed by some loan shark my brother owed or an incompetent burglar. I'm assuming nothing was taken from the house and you've determined there was one shooter?"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I think it was the same man who killed four CIA guards and freed Olivia Riley last night."

"Who is Olivia Riley?"

"Someone who tried to kill me once. I'm pretty sure she hates me and wants revenge. And whoever took her must have similar sentiments."

"You can't know this was connected to your sister-in-law's death."

"I don't believe in coincidences. Either way, you still want to find whoever killed her, and someone who doesn't exist is stonewalling you. I can help with that."

"So the CIA wants in on this investigation, is that it?"

"No. I'm not here on behalf of the Agency. I'm here because I think you can help me and my friends track down someone who wants us all dead. Riley hasn't left Miami; that means she has something planned. You help me find her, it could go a long way toward finding out why Ruth was killed."

Carrillo shook his head. "You know I'm not sure what your deal is, Westen. Why not have your CIA buddies take care of this?"

"Because these people are after me specifically, and my relationship with the CIA isn't exactly a trusting one at the moment."

Carrillo nodded. "I see. Tell you what, I'll look into this. See if I can find out where the order came from to take me off the case. I was gonna do that anyway, but I'll let you know what I find."

Michael smiled. "Thank you, Detective. I'm sure we'll work well together."

"Yeah. Don't get ahead of yourself, Westen."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Dani got to the office early the next morning, but Michael was already there, and he was drinking coffee, which he didn't do a lot. She wondered if he had slept at all. The redness around his eyes said that he hadn't. Dani didn't speak to him as she sat down at her desk and checked her email for any new information. There were a few lab results from the charred van, but nothing conclusive. Finally, she turned to Michael who was sitting across from her, staring at the wall behind her.

"Please tell me you found something useful when you weren't sleeping last night," Dani said.

Michael didn't reply right away. He took a moment to refocus and sipped his coffee. "Carrillo was thrown off Ruth's case by a non-existent detective named Elias. Still no luck finding Riley. We searched all night."

Dani sighed and rested her chin in her hands. "Where does that put us?"

Michael set his paper cup on the desk. "I think we need to find out whoever this Elias is. Killing Ruth could be a distraction to keep us from finding Riley."

"And this Elias character could be a red herring."

"It's all we have. If the same person who took Riley killed Ruth it leads us to the same place."

"But what if—and I'm not saying this is the case—what if the two events are unconnected?"

Michael shook his head. "There's no motive to kill Ruth otherwise. She didn't have any enemies, and if she'd owed someone money, they would have taken what they could get from her house. Carrillo called early this morning and said she was shot with a 9mm."

"What does that prove?"

"Nothing, but I just have this feeling I know who it is."

"It might help matters if you shared that information."

Michael shook his head. "There's no proof, like you said. It's a long shot. We should work on finding Riley. How confident are we that she didn't leave Miami?"

"Her name and face were all over the area within an hour of the extraction. TSA, customs, Coast Guard. It's highly unlikely she got out of South Florida unless the people who sprung her had a lot of connections and worked very fast. And I don't think she would leave. Do you?"

"No. I don't think so."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

One of Sam's many "buddies" had come through once again. They had a lead. A slim one, but there seemed to be some activity under the name of Harry Elias at a pay by the week motel. There was a chance that was where Riley had been stashed. Upon the receipt of this knowledge, Michael, Sam, and Jesse headed over to see what they could find. Fiona made them take along enough guns and ammunition to stage a week long siege of the place. Hopefully, they wouldn't need it.

Running a mission together again felt half strange, half exhilarating. For the moment, it seemed just like before, but they all knew it wasn't. They knew this job would come to an end, as personal as it was, and Michael would once again leave for Langley. He wouldn't be back often if ever, and they certainly wouldn't be working together again. They began to feel that this was going to be one last job to say goodbye, a sendoff of sorts, the chance they didn't have three months ago to close the book on everything. No one thought the final parting would be any less painful or easy to accept than the last.

Michael pulled the Charger up to the curb a block away from the motel. If Riley was in there, they had to be subtle. She was a trained operative, and she was on the run. She had the advantage of being the defender in this little battle.

Jesse went up the alley behind the motel in case Riley tried to escape that way. Sam went to the office, and Michael watched the front to see if anyone came out.

The woman behind the counter at the front desk was a middle aged Mexican with graying hair at her temples. She looked bored and tired as Sam approached her.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," he said flashing her a smile and his fake Chuck Finley badge. "My name's Detective Finley. I'm looking for someone. Have you seen this woman?" He held up a picture of Riley.

The woman, whose name tag read Ana, shrugged and looked away.

"Okay. What about a man named Harry Elias? I think he has a room here."

"I can't give out that information," she said.

"Look, I just need to know what room he's in. It's very important."

"I'm sorry. You have to have a warrant."

"Look, there isn't time. People's lives are at stake. You could be a hero if you point us in the right direction."

Ana gave Sam a long stare. "If I tell you, you go away?"

Sam grinned. "It'll be like I was never here."

"He's in 204. He used four towels."

"Thank you very much. You've been a big help." Sam hurried back out to where Michael was waiting in the trees across the street with a pair of binoculars.

"I haven't seen Riley or our mystery man," he said.

"Well, our friend Ana in the office says he's staying n 204 and abusing his laundry privileges."

"Let's go teach him some manners then."

Michael and Sam headed back across the street and up to the second floor of the motel. When they reached 204, Michael knocked and announced that housekeeping had arrived. When no one answered for 30 seconds and there was no sound inside, Michael and Sam nodded to one another and simultaneously drew their guns and kicked in the door. Straight across the small room, the window was open, and bedsheets hung through the opening.

Michael rushed to the window and saw Jesse running down the alley, but the man in the distance had a big head start. Without a word, Michael and Sam ran back out of the room, hoping they could intercept the mysterious Elias.


	9. Just Another Mission

**Chapter Nine "Just Another Mission"**

As Jesse rounded the corner to see Elias slip into a taxi and speed away, he also noticed Michael and Sam coming from around the motel. They both looked like they had been running at full speed, just as Jesse was. It was all for nothing though. Elias was long gone.

The three of them grouped together on the sidewalk, and for a moment no one said anything. Then Michael put on his operative voice and got that cold, dead look in his eyes.

"Did you get a good look at him?" he asked Jesse.

"Not really," Jesse replied. "He's tall. Older than you'd think for how fast he was. I think I saw gray in his hair."

"It's something," Sam said with a shrug.

"Yeah, not much," Michael said.

Jesse looked from Sam to Michael. "So what do we do now?"

"Jesse, get back to Carrillo and let him know Elias is on the run," Michael said. "Sam, start calling in all your favors. We need to find this guy."

"But Mike, I'm just about out of favors."

"You, Sam? Never."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. I'll get right on it."

Michael touched Sam's shoulder for a split second. "Thanks." He smiled. It might have been genuine.

The three of them headed back to Pearce's office first where they dropped off Michael, and then Sam and Jesse took off across town to see Carrillo. Michael thought that it seemed a bit like how they used to operate, him reporting to the CIA while his friends worked behind the scenes. As he walked through the hallways, he couldn't shake the sense of growing despair that had been coming on ever since he squeezed the trigger and watched Tom Card's body slump to the floor. He knew even then that he would never be able to get his life back, that elusive goal he couldn't even see anymore. It wasn't in the cards for Michael to be happy. He had always known that, but he also knew his tendency to fight destiny or fate or the random chance that made his life one long string of loss and disappointment.

Michael couldn't afford to dwell on these things. He had a job to do, a purpose, though not the one he would have chosen. He couldn't take back that bullet any more than he could bring his brother back to life. And it had always been difficult for Michael to accept the things he couldn't change.

When he arrived in Pearce's office, she was on the phone, so he waited in the doorway while she spoke to whomever was on the other end. She sounded frustrated, and she paced the length of her desk, dragging the phone cord with her.

Michael came to the obvious conclusion: there was no progress on finding Riley. He was surprised at how much that fact was grating on Pearce. She had no reason to care about the outcome of this case beyond the fact that it was just another job. He should have realized that nothing was just another job for her when it came to him, but he didn't. He couldn't.

"Tell me something good," Dani said as she hung up the phone.

"We tracked Harry Elias to a motel," Michael said. "But he got away before we could catch him."

"That's not good." Dani sunk into her chair. "All I'm getting about Riley is that there's no sign of her. It's like she just disappeared. You really think this Elias can lead you to her?"

"Yes."

"Then find him. I can take care of things here, tell the Agency what they want to hear, whatever you need."

Michael was surprised for a moment. "Thanks," he said. "You know you don't owe me anything, Dani."

She looked up into his eyes for a moment. She couldn't remember him ever using her first name before. "Yes I do," she said. "Maybe you don't see it, but I do."

Michael nodded, not in agreement, but acknowledgment of her gratitude for whatever it was he did, getting her back to Miami, helping her with Jay's killer. It didn't seem like enough, but maybe she saw something he just didn't.

He left the office and got a cab back to his mom's house. He felt like he had been awake for days, and maybe he was getting too old for these all nighters. Or maybe it was time he stopped treating this like any other mission and admitted how hard the whole thing was for him.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Detective Carrillo was back on the case, officially or not. He had spent the morning going over every known associate of Ruth Westen's after a late night of investigating this mysterious Elias. When Sam and Jesse arrived at his desk, he was hoping for good news.

"So you just let him get away?" Carrillo demanded.

Jesse gave him that wide eyed, raised eyebrow look that said _you've gotta be kidding me_. "He was in a cab. I was on foot. Can you run 35 miles an hour? Didn't think so."

Carrillo put up his hand. "All right, I get it. How are we supposed to find him now?"

"You're the detective," Sam said. "Don't you have the kind of resources that could lead us to him?"

"If I get caught digging too deep into this, I could get fired. I think someone around here must be on the take. There's no other way to explain my case getting handed over to no one."

"Great," Jesse said. "Just what we need. A dirty cop."

Sam looked thoughtful. "If Riley's really involved in all this, what kind of connections must she have?"

Carrillo looked from Sam to Jesse and back again. "I think I need to know more about this Riley character if I'm going to be able to help you guys."

Jesse shrugged. "Oh, she's just a former CIA investigator who tried to have us all killed by a drug cartel."

"That all?" Carrillo raised his eyebrows. "What are you getting me into?"

"We don't know if she's connected," Sam said. "But Ruth getting killed right after Riley escaped seems too much of a coincidence. And Mike seems to think this Elias character is the one who bankrolled her escape."

"Of which we have absolutely no evidence." Carrillo crossed his arms. "You know, I can keep steering you guys in the right direction, but if you want charges to stick—"

"Charges are not important," Jesse said. "Anyone helping Riley is going to be facing the wrath of the CIA, and Michael Westen—and me, come to think of it."

"If this is some kind of revenge mission for you people, I'm out."

Sam gave Jesse a somewhat exasperated look. "These are dangerous people. We just want them off the streets. Right?"

"Yeah," Jesse replied. "Off the streets."

Carrillo looked at both of them suspiciously. "Fine. I'll call you when I get anything on Elias. And you'll keep me in the loop about this Riley?"

"Of course," Sam said with a forced smile. After what Jesse had said he couldn't wait to get out of there.

They got back to the car and Jesse drove toward Carlito's. It was time for something to eat. And a drink, in Sam's opinion. This day just kept getting more interesting, and not in a good way.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked when they had been on the road for a while.

"What?" Jesse asked, feigning innocence.

"The whole charges don't matter/wrath speech."

"What about it?"

"You think it's a good idea to say stuff like that to a detective? Also, on a related topic, what did you mean exactly? What do you have against Riley that the rest of us don't?"

"Nothing."

"You know, I know I fake it pretty well, but I'm not exactly stupid. Did she do something to you while you were in custody that time?"

"Sam, why don't we just focus on finding the bitch and leave the therapy session for later."

"Because I don't want to be working with a loose cannon. No offense, but I've been shot plenty of times for one lifetime. I don't want any repeats."

Jesse sighed. "Fine—fine. She tried to get me to flip on you guys by saying she had information on the guy who killed my mom."

"Jeez, that sucks."

"Yeah, well, I didn't take it, and when Mike and Fi came to get me out, I found out it was just a file of blank pages."

"Ouch. Okay, so you hate her."

"There were some things she said—it doesn't matter. I just want her out of our lives for good this time."

"You and me both."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

When Michael got back to his mom's house, everyone was at the table having lunch. Charlie was silently munching on a peanut butter sandwich while Madeline and Fiona were talking quietly. They stopped when Michael came in.

"You want something to eat?" Madeline asked, getting up from the table.

"No, Mom, that's fine," Michael replied. He didn't know what else he was going to say, so he sat down in the empty chair at the end of the table.

"You look tired," Fiona said, surprising him.

He looked up and met her eyes. She might have had the slightest hint of worry in her expression. "I am," Michael said. "I don't think I'll be sleeping much until this is over."

He didn't know why he said that. It was never over. Nothing about his life made it easy to sleep at night, and he no longer held to the delusion that his actions helped others in that regard.

"You should rest." Fiona began picking up plates and not looking at Michael. "You know how paranoid you get when you don't sleep."

Michael didn't know what to say. Fiona was talking to him like nothing was wrong between them, like this was just a normal day, a normal mission.

"He should eat first," Madeline said. "I think I have some yogurt." She went into the kitchen with Fiona, and Michael watched them, wondering what had just happened.

Across the table, Charlie sat, now picking at the crust of his sandwich. He hadn't even looked at Michael since he came in, and his silence was unsettling. Michael couldn't think of anything to say to him. That seemed to be a recurring problem of his.

Finally, Charlie abandoned the dismembered PB&J and looked up at his uncle. "Did you catch the bad guy yet?" he asked.

Michael let out the long breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Not yet." He shook his head. "But we will."

Charlie only nodded and got down from the table, disappearing into the bathroom to wash his hands.

Michael rested his elbows on the table and stared straight ahead without seeing. How had this become of his family? What had he done so wrong that they all had to suffer like this. It wasn't fair to them. Michael would gladly have taken all that pain on himself. He knew he could handle it. What he couldn't handle was watching everyone else turn into ghosts of the ones he loved. That was the real reason he had to leave, the reason this mission couldn't have happened at a worse time. It was cowardly, but Michael just wanted to escape. He didn't want to stay here and watch it all fall apart just like he hadn't when he was 17. Only that time, he managed to get away.

At some point, his mom came back into the dining room and left a cup of blueberry yogurt and a spoon on the table. At some point, Michael ate it. And then he went into his room and fell into a fitful sleep for a few blissful hours.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

After a quick lunch, Sam and Jesse headed over to Jesse's place to try to do some more digging about Elias and for Sam to have a quiet place to call in those favors he promised Michael. When they reached the third floor hallway, Jesse knew something was wrong. There was nothing out of place, but he could just feel it. When they reached his door, Jesse stretched out his arm to stop Sam from getting any closer.

"Lock's been busted," he said.

Sam followed Jesse's gaze and saw the broken mechanism. He instinctively reached for his gun. After a quick glance between the two of them, Sam kicked the door the rest of the way in, and Jesse entered the apartment, his gun also drawn.

It only took a moment to look around and see that no one was there, but the place had been ransacked, and there was a "delivery" on the dining room table atop the scattered magazines and newspapers. It was a brown folder with a picture pinned to the outside.

Jesse stared as he got closer to the foreign paperwork. He had seen that face every day of his life, in his dreams, in the photograph he always kept with him. It was his mother, and Jesse's mind immediately went to Riley's interrogation technique. He couldn't dare think this was real, that he had a chance to find his mom's killer. He had been cheated of that too many times.

"Jesse?" Sam's voice cut through the thick silence.

"Yeah?" Jesse replied, still staring.

"Are you going to see what's inside it?"

Jesse watched the folder as if it would sprout legs and run off. He still had his gun in his hand, his senses on high alert. It couldn't be the answers he so desperately wanted, and yet a part of him believed it was. Part of him still hoped he would find out what really happened and be able to get some closure. This was the nightmare that had never allowed him to live a normal life, to wake up and not feel the intense regret and anger that had been his constant companion, more of a friend to him than Sam or Michael or Fiona had ever been.

Part of him couldn't touch that file for fear that it didn't hold the answers he needed, and for fear that it did.

"You do it," he finally said.

"What?" Sam acted like he didn't hear Jesse.

"I can't, Sam. You do it."

"Okay," Sam said, and he reached out for the folder.

Jesse's hand tightened around the grip of his gun, and he waited for the news that it was a stack of blank paper, that it was everything he had ever wanted.


	10. Mass Distraction

**This is the last chapter I have finished, so I'm going to try to get some more done this week, and hopefully have a new one ready for you next Friday. I've been toying around with the idea of splitting the plot into two stories, so there might actually end up being a sequel to this story. We'll have to see how it goes.**

**Thanks again for all the reviews. I really appreciate it.**

**Chapter Ten "Mass Distraction"**

Jesse's mouth felt dry. His hand shook, and he thought it would be a good idea to set his gun down on the cluttered table. He didn't watch as Sam opened the folder. He stared at the mess in the living room off to the left. He could tell from where he was standing that his guests weren't looking for anything. They just made a mess because they could. They broke his favorite lamp.

"Uh, Jesse?" Sam's voice snapped in the silence.

"Yeah?" Jesse replied, not trusting his voice with any more words.

"What did your mom do for a living?"

"She was a nurse. Why?"

"Well, not according to this." Sam flipped a page. "If this is a real personnel file and not a bunch of lies, I would say she was a very active CIA operative during the late sixties and seventies."

"What?" Jesse's head snapped to the side where Sam was standing. His eyes scanned the page in a few seconds, but he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Jesse snatched the file from Sam and flipped back to the first page. "This isn't possible."

"You think it's forged?"

"No, I mean, it just isn't possible." Jesse continued turning pages. He saw names he recognized: Tom Card, Larry Sizemore, Phillip Cowan. From the looks of things, his mom had worked with all of them. "This can't be right."

"We need to show this to Mike," Sam said. He sounded nervous. "If your mom was connected to all those people—"

"She wasn't a criminal."

"I didn't say that. They were all legitimate at some point. Maybe. But if she dealt with them in any capacity, we need to know."

"It could be a bunch of lies like last time."

"That's why we should tell Mike. Maybe Pearce can look into it."

Jesse stared at the file again. There were pictures, old ones, but it was clear who was in them. They could have been doctored, maybe, but Jesse had a feeling that whatever the truth turned out to be, there was more to his mom's past than he ever could have imagined. The grainy black and white photos showed her meeting with other agents. Card was in some of them. They looked friendly. Jesse felt his stomach twist at the sight of her smile and the thought that she wasted it on that sad excuse for a man.

"Jess?" Sam spoke softly. "You okay?"

Jesse looked up at Sam. "No, not really."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Charlie fell asleep on Fiona's lap as she was reading a story, so she decided to move him to Michael's room. She hadn't realized that Michael himself was asleep. He was lying on his side facing the window, and the afternoon sunlight seeped through the blinds, making lines on his face. Fiona wished she could say that Michael looked peaceful when he was sleeping, but she never saw it that way. There was still something in his expression that made her think he was ready to kill at any moment. He had always been like that.

Fiona put the thought out of her mind as she laid Charlie down on the other side of the bed. She was careful not to disturb Michael, knowing how light a sleeper he was, but as she looked back from the doorway, she saw Michael's deep blue eyes staring back at her.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.

"You didn't," Michael replied.

Fiona didn't believe him, but she didn't say so. "You should sleep."

"I did."

Fiona nodded. It wasn't enough in her opinion, but she wouldn't argue with him. He followed her out of the room, closing the door softly behind him to let Charlie sleep in peace. Once they were out in the front room, Michael headed for the door, and Fiona thought he was going to leave again. However, he left the door standing open, as if in a silent invitation for her to join him on the porch. He didn't say anything. From inside the house, Fiona could see him sit down on the concrete steps with his back to her. His shoulders rose and fell to a strict rhythm. The muscles there and in his neck were visibly tense.

Fiona could have ignored Michael. She could have gone into the sunroom where she had been sitting with Charlie and pretend Michael wasn't there. But a slight breeze came from the open door, blowing fresh, hot air into the cool, stuffy house. He was waiting for her, even though he had no reason to think she would come. She did anyway.

Fiona saw a twitch in Michael's arm as she closed the door with a sturdy _thud_. He didn't like noises he couldn't see, but even at that, he didn't turn from the bland view of the front yard. He didn't move or speak as Fiona sat down next to him. A trickle of sweat ran down her back whether from the heat or nerves, she couldn't be sure. This was the conversation they couldn't have the previous morning, the one she hadn't been ready for. She wasn't even so sure she could handle it now, but she owed him this much. What he did had not been an attempt to abandon her or get his old life back. She knew that, but she hadn't been able to compose herself enough to admit that he did what he had to. Maybe too, she hated the situation so much, she couldn't accept that no one was to blame for it, that Michael had left her for her own good, just as he had back in Ireland. Fiona always subconsciously believed he had wanted to leave her then, and it wasn't much of a stretch to think he wanted to again when he rejoined the CIA. This insecurity was unlike her, but there it was in all its glory, making her look at it, acknowledge it.

Fiona wished Michael would say something.

As if in answer to her silent wish, Michael let out a long breath. "Fi?"

"Yes?" There was something like eagerness in her voice. She wanted to hear anything he had to say.

"I need you to know—" He paused, collecting his thoughts. "—if I hadn't taken that deal, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life—and I have enough on my conscience already." Michael turned to face her with these last words, and his eyes had that look of honesty she so rarely saw.

Fiona nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but needing to reply. "I know," she said. "I'm not angry at you. I was before, but I wouldn't have wanted you to give up who you are for a promise that didn't work out."

"I meant it, Fi." She had never heard him sound so desperate. "When I said I was done, I meant it."

"I know you did, Michael. Maybe that's why it took me so long to accept that it wasn't going to happen."

"If I could—"

"Don't. There is no _if_. I told you a long time ago that I would support you, and when the time came, I forgot."

"I left you. Without explanation, without—"

"Without you, Michael. That's all that mattered. I couldn't see past it. I'm still not sure if I can."

"I knew you wouldn't come with me."

Fiona shook her head. "But I'll always be here if you _ever _make it back."

"It'll be too late then."

"Don't say that. You can't know that."

"Fi—"

"No, you don't get to decide that, Michael. I wanted to hate you when you left, but I know I could never love anyone else. If that means being alone, it's better than trying to forget like I've done for the last three months. Like I did after you left the first time. I can't forget."

Michael shook his head. "Me either, Fi."

She smiled sadly and wrapped her hand around his arm while leaning her head against his shoulder. "I told Jesse once that I belong with you for better or worse. He said it would probably be for worse. Granted I was about to join you in your attempt to blow up Vaughn and his minions..."

Michael laughed weakly. "Sam and I have decided Jesse is more observant than he seems."

"I don't think it takes strong observational skills to know that our relationship is eternally destined for trouble. We don't function any other way."

"Well, he also said that when I left, you might have thought the CIA was more important to me than you."

"If I did, I was fooling myself. I know you, Michael. Better than I think I do. Someone once said you should never doubt in the darkness what you know to be true in the light. I didn't do so well with that for a while, but I'm okay now. I will be. I think."

Michael moved his arm around Fiona's waist and pulled her closer to him. "I know I've left you in good hands."

"My own?"

"I meant Sam and Jesse."

"Oh. They're all right, I suppose. I'm sure I'd get along fine without them."

Michael smirked almost imperceptibly. "I'm sure you would."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Sam was beginning to wish he had tried harder to convince Jesse to let him drive. They took the streets at 20 miles over the speed limit, and the white knuckle grip Jesse had on the steering wheel was not encouraging. Sam held onto the door handle and prayed for death to come quickly.

Thankfully, they arrived at Madeline's house much faster than they should have, and Sam's prayers went unanswered for the moment. Jesse was out of the car and heading up the walkway before Sam could undo his seatbelt. He hurried after his friend, and saw Michael and Fiona sitting on the porch, rather cozy as they approached. Once he saw them, though, Michael was on his feet, back in "operative mode."

"What's going on?" he asked, eying the file in Jesse's hand.

Jesse took a deep breath. "Remember that favor I said I was going to collect on?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm doing it. Now." He thrust the file toward Michael, and gestured for them all to go inside.

By the time they reached the dining room table, Michael had already begun flipping through the pages, and Fiona was peering over his shoulder.

"I'll get this to Pearce," Michael finally said. "She can find out if it's real. Until then, we can't act on any of this."

"Let me take it to her," Jesse said.

"What exactly was the favor you wanted from me? I know she'll look into it if I ask her to."

"If I can't convince her, I don't deserve to know." Jesse grabbed the file before Michael could argue any more. "If I hurry, I can catch her before she leaves the office."

"Or end up wrapped around a telephone pole," Sam muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. So, what's for dinner?"

"Later, Sam," Michael said. "Jesse, we still don't know where this information came from."

"Yeah we do," Jesse said. "It's Riley. She tried using my mom against me before, and she's doing it again."

"Then maybe she expects us to take it to Pearce. What motive could she have, other than distracting us, and how did she get this kind of information if it is legitimate?"

Jesse shook his head. "I told you, I'm calling in my favor, Mike. I honestly don't care if it is a distraction. If there is _any_ truth in this file, I need to know."

Michael nodded. "Okay."

He didn't have to say any more. Jesse left as quickly as he came, and Sam watched as Michael began to process this new development.

"What do you think, Mikey?" he asked.

"I think this just got even more complicated than it was, and if we're not careful, Riley could tear us all apart."

"Then we stick together," Fiona said. "Like we always do."

Sam nodded, and Michael realized that whether he liked it or not, the old team was back for one last mission. The outcome wouldn't change anything, but they didn't have a choice. As long as Riley was out there, none of them would get a good night's sleep.


	11. I Will Try to Fix You

**I would like to thank my beta reader, Riter's Fury, for being awesome. And all you readers. You guys are awesome too.**

**Chapter Eleven "I Will Try to Fix You"**

Jesse drove much slower on the way to Dani's office. For some reason, talking to Michael gave him focus, allowed him to think about all this in a more rational manner. Not entirely rational, though. Jesse had never claimed any semblance of pure objectivity. He usually thought it was easier to admit that he took things personally, but nothing about this was easy. Jesse remembered the desperation he tried so hard to hide when Riley had offered him information about his mom. He had been willing to give up everything but his friends. He wondered if he would still make that sacrifice for them. He hoped he would, but things had changed since Michael left. Sure, he was back for the moment, but he would be gone again too soon.

Jesse decided that he would do the same thing because he hadn't sold them out when he was facing life in prison, and that had to be worse than anything else Riley could throw at them, right? Jesse hoped so anyway.

He arrived at Dani's office just as she was getting ready to leave. She looked surprised—but not unpleasantly—to see him. It only took a second for her to realize this wasn't a social visit like last time.

"What's wrong?" she asked, worry coating her words.

"I need a favor," Jesse said. "I know this is a bad time, but it's important."

"Anything. What is it?" Dani leaned against her desk and crossed her arms.

Jesse held up the file. "I need you to find out if this information is legitimate."

"Looks like a lot of information? Where'd you get it?"

"I think Riley left it in my apartment."

"She was there? Did you see her?"

"No, I can't say for sure it was her, but—it had to be."

"Why's that?"

"Because this is a CIA personnel file. On my mom."

Dani reached out her hand, but Jesse didn't give her the file right away. "I'll do everything I can," she said. "After everything you did for me..."

"What did I ever do for you?"

"In between complaining about green Jello, you kept me from blowing the mission that took down my fiance's killer. I never really thanked you for that."

Jesse shook his head and handed her the file. "I never thought you needed to."

Dani met Jesse's eyes, and for a moment neither of them said anything. She held the file as if it would break into a million pieces if she weren't careful. It wasn't really the file she was worried about.

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

Madeline had overheard a lot of what went on at her house that day, but she kept out of it for the most part. She watched though. She knew that Michael and Fiona were talking again without raising their voices. She knew that Jesse had discovered some unsettling information about his mother. As happy as Madeline was about Michael and Fiona, she worried about Jesse. She worried about all of them, but he seemed to be the one who needed it the most at the moment. She also worried about Charlie. He was being a tough guy, a lot like his uncle, but Madeline knew he was scared and feeling alone. She didn't know how to fix it. She didn't know how to fix anything. That seemed to be the story of her life.

It was time for Charlie to wake up though. If he slept too long, he'd have even more difficulty when bedtime came. He was already having nightmares as it was. Madeline tried not to think of it as she went into Michael's childhood bedroom. Charlie was still sound asleep on top of the covers where Fiona had left him. He had that look on his face though, that look that told Madeline his mind was far from idle. He was a lot like Michael that way, always thinking.

Madeline sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to put her hand on Charlie's shoulder. He stirred under her touch.

"Is it morning, Grandma?" he asked, rubbing his eyes as the late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds.

Madeline smiled. "No, honey, you just took a nap. Do you want to get up and play for a while?"

"I want to go home."

Madeline didn't know what to say. She didn't deal with death well, but she'd never had to explain it to a child. Charlie knew his mother was gone, but he was also two years old, and he wanted to go home.

"You're going to live here now, Charlie," Madeline said, hoping that was some consolation. She wouldn't have thought so.

"Forever?"

"Until you grow up."

"Is Uncle Michael going to live here too?"

"No, he's just visiting."

"Good. 'Cause I don't want to share a room with him."

Madeline relaxed. At least he was off the topic of going home.

"But he'll come back and see us, right?"

Madeline knew how to lie when the truth was more harm than good. "Of course he will. He's gotta teach you to drive a car and..." Madeline halted. She didn't think she wanted Michael teaching Charlie anything else he knew.

"Can he teach me to shoot a gun?"

Madeline looked horrified. "Where did you get that idea?"

"He had one in his car before."

"I see. I think you'll have to be a lot older before you can think about doing that."

"Okay. Is it dinner time? I'm hungry."

*** * * Burn Notice * * * **

A thunderstorm blew in that evening. Michael ended up making dinner for everyone at Charlie's request because, quote, "Grandma's food is yucky." Madeline actually seemed pleased with the delegation of tasks. She got to watch Charlie and Fiona play Army men while Michael and Sam were in the kitchen. The division of labor also afforded an opportunity for Sam to express some concerns he was having.

"I wish one of us had gone with Jesse," he said, seemingly out of the blue.

"Why's that?" Michael asked, turning down the stove as the pasta began to boil.

"He just seemed, I don't know, really edgy since this afternoon."

"Yeah?" Michael didn't see the problem.

"I mean before we found the file. When we were talking to Carrillo earlier."

"You think something's wrong?"

"Mike, I know something's wrong. Riley's messing with all of us, but it's getting to Jesse worse. You know she tried to get him to flip on us when she had him in custody, but you don't know that she used information about his mom to do it."

Michael seemed to be thinking for a moment. "The file," he said.

"What?"

"When we rescued Jesse, there was a file of blank paper that he seemed very interested in. That must have been it."

"Yeah, I think so. Anyway, he was really worked up about it, even before we got back to his place."

"And what do you expect me to do about this?"

"I don't know. Talk to him or something."

"Talking's not really my department, Sam."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

"What do you want me to say?"

"That you'll try anyway. This isn't some guy off the street, Mike. It's Jesse. Our friend. You know, the one who refused the answers he's been looking for all his life because he'd have to sell _you_ out to do it."

"You're saying I owe him, and I agree with you, but I don't know what talking to him would accomplish."

"He'll follow you—has followed you—to the gates of hell, just like the rest of us. He'll listen to you."

"Listen to me say what? 'You shouldn't try to find out who your own mother was'? I don't think so."

"That's not what I'm asking. Mikey, he's got an itching trigger finger. He always has, but this just made it worse. I don't want anyone to get hurt, but I have a feeling if that happens, it's going to be him."

Michael nodded. "This must be what it was like all those times you tried to talk me out of something crazy."

"I did succeed that one time."

"Yeah, 'cause you punched me in the face."

"As I recall, you hit first."

"No, I think it was you."

"Whatever. Point is, you'll talk to Jesse?"

"Yeah, I'll talk to him. If he ever finds the guy who killed his mom, I might just help him hide the body, though."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

*** * * Burn Notice * * ***

The rain was coming down in sheets off the hotel eaves as Jesse pulled up. He had stopped by his apartment to grab some things before checking into the hotel. He couldn't stay at home after Riley had been there. Part of him wanted to burn down the building, and he might have if other people wouldn't have been hurt in the process.

As he hurried into the main floor room and out of the deluge, Jesse thought it was useless. He wouldn't be getting any sleep. He just needed some space, a safe place. But who was he kidding. He never really felt safe anywhere. Well, there was that one time on the cruise ship when Dani was telling him to stop whining like a little girl. Jesse didn't know why he was thinking about that now, but something in the memory was comforting.

He turned the deadbolt in the door and looked around the plain room. It was one of those dingy, pay by the week places. Jesse didn't plan on spending a lot of time there. He kicked his shoes off and flopped down on the bed. He thought about turning on the TV, but then decided the noise would only irritate him.

He stayed like that for a long time. He contemplated the possibility that this was all just some cruel joke. That fate or whatever ruled the universe had let Riley out just to screw with all of them. It was worse than fighting off assassins or running from cops. There was nothing to do but wait and hope she messed up. Jesse had never been good at waiting.

The power went out around eleven at night. The storm was still raging on outside. Jesse's phone lit up the room with a text message. He scrambled off the bed and checked the message. It was from Dani.

_I think I found something. Where are you?_

Jesse rapidly texted his location, with a few typos, as his heart began to pound in his throat. He couldn't see straight to read Dani's reply that she was on her way.

Then he waited some more.

Jesse was pacing by the time Dani pounded on the door. He jumped at the noise and ran to the door. Jerking it open, he saw her standing there, soaked from the downpour, holding a leather bag to her chest. Jesse stared at her for a moment.

"Are you gonna let me come in out of this flood?" she demanded.

Jesse jolted back to reality and stood aside to let her in.

"Power's out?" she asked.

"Yeah, there might be a flashlight somewhere," Jesse replied. He used his phone to search around the room and found an emergency kit in the closet. He turned on the flashlight and came back to the middle of the room. Dani was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, still holding her bag.

"What is it?" Jesse asked, skipping over the courtesies he should have offered. Like a towel.

Dani opened her bag and pulled out some computer printouts. "I shouldn't be telling you this because it's way above any clearance you ever had," she said. "But I know I can trust you not to get me fired." She handed Jesse the narrow stack of pages.

"I'm really sorry I had to ask you to do this," Jesse said, but his voice sounded automatic. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. Using the flashlight, he scanned through the pages. "So she really did work for the CIA?"

Dani nodded. "The pictures confirmed that. I just had to do some digging to verify it."

Jesse looked up at her as if suddenly aware of what was going on around him. "What time is it?"

"Around one."

"I can't believe you came out here in a storm in the middle of the night... just for this?"

"Just? It seemed kind of important."

"Yeah. To me."

"Then it's important to me too. I have the original file in a safe in my office. I don't know how Riley managed to get a hold of it. Maybe she had it before she went off the deep end. She shouldn't have had it anyway."

"Then maybe whoever's helping her is even more connected than we thought."

"It doesn't sit well, anyway. I'm starting to understand why you guys are so paranoid all the time. I'm not sure who I can trust in the Agency anymore."

"Mike's paranoid. I'm just careful."

"You're all paranoid. It doesn't mean they're not out to get you. If the events of the last few days are any indication, they _are_ in fact out to get you."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me."

"Hey, are you okay with all this? I mean about your mom and everything. It must be a shock."

Jesse shook his head and switched off the flashlight to save battery. "I'm not sure I have the right to be surprised by anything these days. But to answer your question—No. Not really."

"I wish there were something more I could do."

"You've already done too much for me. You could get in serious trouble for this." Jesse waved the pages in his hand and they made crinkling noises in the dark.

"It's nothing you wouldn't do for me."

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't have so much to lose."

Dani was quiet for a moment. "I don't think so."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that you have friends who would die for you. I... have a job. It's not as nice as everyone makes it seem." Dani sounded lost. The flat tone in her voice was much clearer in the darkness.

"I know," Jesse agreed. "I guess I was kinda like that until Michael got me burned. Is that irony?"

"I think so."

"So, maybe you need to lose your job and join a gang of vigilantes, using your spy skills to fight for the little guy." Jesse laughed that nervous laugh he had when making a joke about something serious.

"Is that how you see what Michael does?"

"What he did, anyway. That's the reason I didn't go back to the DOD."

"You did help a lot of people. You still do. I wish I could feel like I'd accomplished anything like that at the end of the day."

"What you do is important. It matters to people." Jesse paused. "It matters to me."

"Guess you couldn't have gotten that file without me."

"Dani, that's not what I meant. It's the fact that you were willing to do it for me, no questions asked. You have friends too you know, and I don't know if I'd die for anyone, but I like to think I would for you."

"And Michael and Fiona and Sam."

"Well, yeah."

There was a long silence, and Jesse noticed how dark it was. Dani sighed.

"Did I say something wrong?" Jesse asked.

"Not at all." There was a forced brightness in her voice.

"Dani, you're special. I mean, I don't know how to say this. It's not like I don't care about Mike, Fi, and Sam, but I think, I don't know, I can talk to you. Kinda like I used to talk to Fiona before, well, never mind."

Dani laughed. "Wow, you're really bad at this."

"I've had other things to do."

"I've noticed."

"If it makes you feel any better, you've definitely gotten my mind off all this crap with Riley."

"I suppose I should consider that an accomplishment."

"Yeah, you should. I've been looking for this information for twenty-five years. I tried over and over again to see case files on my mom's death. You confirmed she worked for the CIA in a few hours."

"Is it anti-climactic?"

"Not at all. This opens up a whole new flood of questions, and I'm sure that's exactly what Riley wants, but she's underestimating us. She doesn't know we've got you on our side. She doesn't know that I can count on you."

Dani smiled, even though Jesse couldn't see her. "I'm in this to the end, okay? I know I'm not part of the 'team' or anything—"

"We'll have a vote later. I'm sure you'll be unanimously accepted."

"You're funny." Dani's voice was so matter of fact. "Sometimes I forget people like you still exist."

"Of course they don't. I'm one of a kind."

"Yeah. Yeah, you are."


End file.
